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AGAMEMNON 


THE  PLAYS  OF  EURIPIDES 

FOR  ENGUSH  READERS 

In  English  rhyming  verse  with  Explanatoiy  Notes 
Translated  by 

GILBERT  MURRAY.  LL.D..  D.Litt..  F.B.A. 

Regiiu  Profeuor  of  Greek  in  the  Univeiiity  o(  Oxford 

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"  II — Supplices,  Hercules,  Ion, 
Troiades,  Electra,  Iphigenia, 
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The  Interpretation  of  Greek  Literature 

An  Inaugural  Lecture.    Paper 90 


THE 

AGAMEMNON 


OF 


AESCHYLUS 


TRANSLATED    INTO    ENGLISH    RHYMING   VERSE 
WITH   EXPLANATORY    NOTES    BY 

GILBERT    MURRAY 

RKGIUS  PROFESSOR  OF  GREEK  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  OXFORD 


NEW  YORK 

OXFORD  UNIVERSITY  PRESS   ' 

AMERICAN  BRANCH:  35  West  32nd  Street 
LONDON,  TORONTO,  MELBOURNE,  AND  BOMBAY 

1920 

All  Rights  Reserved 


CopYKiCHT  tga) 

BY 

OXFORD  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 
Akesican  Branch 


PREFACE 

The  sense  of  difficulty,  and  indeed  of  awe,  with  which 
a  scholar  approaches  the  task  of  translating  the 
Agamemnon  depends  directly  on  its  greatness  as  poetry. 
It  is  in  part  a  matter  of  diction.  The  language  of 
Aeschylus  is  an  extraordinary  thing,  the  syntax  stiff 
and  simple,  the  vocabulary  obscure,  unexpected,  and 
steeped  in  splendour.  Its  peculiarities  cannot  be  dis- 
regarded, or  the  translation  will  be  false  in  character. 
Yet  not  Milton  himself  could  produce  in  English  the 
same  great  music,  and  a  translator  who  should  strive 
ambitiously  to  represent  the  complex  effect  of  the 
original  would  clog  his  own  powers  of  expression  and 
strain  his  instrument  to  breaking.  But,  apart  from 
the  diction  in  this  narrower  sense,  there  is  a  quality 
of  atmosphere  surrounding  the  Agamemnon  which 
seems  almost  to  defy  reproduction  in  another  setting, 
because  it  depends  in  large  measure  on  the  position 
of  the  play  in  the  historical  development  of  Greek 
literature. 

If  we  accept  the  view  that  all  Art  to  some  extent, 
and  Greek  tragedy  in  a  very  special  degree,  moves 
in  its  course  of  development  from  Religion  to  Enter- 
tainment, from  a  Service  to  a  Performance,  the 
Agamemnon  seems  to  stand  at  a  critical  point  where 
the  balance  of  the  two  elements  is  near  perfection. 
The  drama  has  come  fully  to  life,  but  the  religion 
has  not  yet  faded  to  a  formality.  The  Agamemnon 
is  not,  like  Aeschylus'  Suppliant  Women,  a  statue  half- 
vii 


2234578 


viii  AESCHYLUS 

hewn  out  of  the  rock.  It  is  a  real  play,  showing 
clash  of  character  and  situation,  suspense  and  move- 
ment, psychological  depth  and  subtlety.  Yet  it  still 
remains  something  more  than  a  play.  Its  atmosphere 
is  not  quite  of  this  world.  In  the  long  lyrics  especially 
one  feels  that  the  guiding  emotion  is  not  the 
entertainer's  wish  to  thrill  an  audience,  not  even 
perhaps  the  pure  artist's  wish  to  create  beauty,  but 
something  deeper  and  more  prophetic,  a  passionate 
contemplation  and  expression  of  truth;  though  of 
course  the  truth  in  question  is  something  felt  rather 
than  stated,  something  that  pervades  life,  an  eternal 
and  majestic  rhythm  like  the  movement  of  the  stars. 

Thus,  if  Longinus  is  right  in  defining  Sublimity 
as  "  the  ring,  or  resonance,  of  greatness  of  soul,"  one 
sees  in  part  where  the  sublimity  of  the  Agamemnon 
comes  from.  And  it  is  worth  noting  that  the  faults 
which  some  critics  have  found  in  the  play  are  in 
harmony  with  this  conclusion.  For  the  sublimity 
that  is  rooted  in  religion  tolerates  some  faults  and 
utterly  refuses  to  tolerate  others.  The  Agamemnon 
may  be  slow  in  getting  to  work;  it  may  be  stiff  with 
antique  conventions.  It  never  approaches  to  being 
cheap  or  insincere  or  shallow  or  sentimental  or 
showy.  It  never  ceases  to  be  genuinely  a  "  criticism 
of  life."  The  theme  which  it  treats,  for  instance,  is  a 
great  theme  in  its  own  right;  it  is  not  a  made-up 
story  ingeniously  handled. 

The  trilogy  of   the   Oresteia,  of  which   this  play 

is  the  first  part,  centres  on  the  old  and  everlastingly 

unsolved  problem  of 

The  ancient  blinded  vengeance  and  the  wrong  that 
amendeth  wrong. 


PREFACE  ix 

Every  wrong  is  justly  punished;  yet,  as  the  world 
goes,  every  punishment  becomes  a  new  wrong,  calling 
for  fresh  vengeance.  And  more;  every  wrong  turns 
out  to  be  itself  rooted  in  some  wrong  of  old.  It  is 
never  gratuitous,  never  untempted  by  the  working 
of  Peitho  (Persuasion),  never  merely  wicked.  The 
Oresteia  first  shows  the  cycle  of  crime  punished  by 
crime  which  must  be  repunished,  and  then  seeks  for 
some  gleam  of  escape,  some  breaking  of  the  endless 
chain  of  "  evil  duty."  In  the  old  order  of  earth  and 
heaven  there  was  no  such  escape.  Each  blow  called 
for  the  return  blow  and  must  do  so  ad  infinitum.  But, 
according  to  Aeschylus,  there  is  a  new  Ruler  now  in 
heaven,  one  who  has  both  sinned  and  suffered  and 
thereby  grown  wise.  He  is  Zeus  the  Third  Power, 
Zeus  the  Saviour,  and  his  gift  to  mankind  is  the  ability 
through  suffering  to  Learn  (pp.  7  f.) 

At  the  opening  of  the  Agamemnon  we  find  Clytem- 
nestra  alienated  from  her  husband  and  secretly  be- 
friended with  his  ancestral  enemy,  Aigisthos.  The 
air  is  heavy  and  throbbing  with  hate;  hate  which 
is  evil  but  has  its  due  cause.  Agamemnon,  obeying 
the  prophet  Calchas,  when  the  fleet  lay  storm-bound 
at  Aulis,  had  given  his  own  daughter,  Iphigenia,  as 
a  human  sacrifice.  And  if  we  ask  how  a  sane  man 
had  consented  to  such  an  act,  we  are  told  of  his  gradual 
temptation;  the  deadly  excuse  offered  by  ancient 
superstition;  and  above  all,  the  fact  that  he  had 
already  inwardly  accepted  the  great  whole  of  which 
this  horror  was  a  part.  At  the  first  outset  of  his 
expedition  against  Troy  there  had  appeared  an  omen, 
the  bloody  sign  of  two  eagles  devouring  a  mother-hare 
with  her  unborn  young.  .    .    .  The  question  was  thus 


X  AESCHYLUS 

put  to  the  Kings  and  their  prophet:  Did  they  or 
did  they  not  accept  the  sign,  and  wish  to  be  those 
Eagles?  And  they  had  answered  Yes.  They  would 
have  their  vengeance,  their  full  and  extreme  victory, 
and  were  ready  to  pay  the  price.  The  sign  once 
accepted,  the  prophet  recoils  from  the  consequences 
which,  in  prophetic  vision,  he  sees  following  there- 
from: but  the  decision  has  been  taken,  and  the  long 
tale  of  cruelty  rolls  on,  culminating  in  the  triumphant 
sack  of  Troy,  which  itself  becomes  not  an  assertion 
of  Justice  but  a  whirlwind  of  godless  destruction. 
And  through  all  these  doings  of  fierce  beasts  and  angry 
men  the  unseen  Pity  has  been  alive  and  watching,  the 
Artemis  who  "  abhors  the  Eagles'  feast,"  the  "  Apollo 
or  Pan  or  Zeus  "  who  hears  the  crying  of  the  robbed 
vulture;  nay,  if  even  the  Gods  were  deaf,  the  mere 
"  wrong  of  the  dead  "  at  Troy  might  waken,  groping 
for  some  retribution  upon  the  "  Slayer  of  Many  Men  " 
(pp.  15,  20). 

If  we  ask  why  men  are  so  blind,  seeking  their 
welfare  thus  through  incessant  evil,  Aeschylus  will 
tell  us  that  the  cause  lies  in  the  infection  of  old 
sin,  old  cruelty.  There  is  no  doubt  somewhere  a 
7tpooTapxoi''Atr}f  a  "  first  blind  deed  of  wrong,"  but 
in  practice  every  wrong  is  the  result  of  another.  And 
the  Children  of  Atreus  are  steeped  to  the  lips  in  them. 
When  the  prophetess  Cassandra,  out  of  her  first  vague 
horror  at  the  evil  House,  begins  to  grope  towards  some 
definite  image,  first  and  most  haunting  comes  the 
sound  of  the  weeping  of  two  little  children,  murdered 
long  ago,  in  a  feud  that  was  not  theirs.  From  that 
point,  more  than  any  other,  the  Daemon  or  Genius 
of  the  House — more  than  its  "  Luck,"  a  little  less 


PREFACE  xi 

than  its  Guardian  Angel — becomes  an  Alastor  or 
embodied  Curse,  a  "  Red  Slayer "  which  cries  ever 
for  peace  and  cleansing,  but  can  seek  them  only  in 
the  same  blind  way,  through  vengeance,  and,  when 
that  fails,  then  through  more  vengeance  (p.  69). 

This  awful  conception  of  a  race  intent  upon  its 
own  wrongs,  and  blindly  groping  towards  the  very 
terror  it  is  trying  to  avoid,  is  typified,  as  it  were,  in 
the  Cassandra  story.  That  daughter  of  Priam  was 
beloved  by  Apollo,  who  gave  her  the  power  of  true 
prophecy.  In  some  way  that  we  know  not,  she  broke 
her  promise  to  the  God;  and,  since  his  gift  could 
not  be  recalled,  he  added  to  it  the  curse  that,  while  she 
should  always  foresee  and  foretell  the  truth,  none 
should  believe  her.  The  Cassandra  scene  is  a  creation 
beyond  praise  or  criticism.  The  old  scholiast  speaks  of 
the  "  pity  and  amazement "  which  it  causes.  -  The 
Elders  who  talk  with  her  wish  to  believe,  they  try  to 
understand,  they  are  really  convinced  of  Cassandra's 
powers.  But  the  curse  is  too  strong.  The  special 
thing  which  Cassandra  tries  again  and  again  to  say 
always  eludes  them,  and  they  can  raise  no  finger  to 
prevent  the  disaster  happening.  And  when  it  does 
happen  they  are,  as  they  have  described  themselves,  weak 
and  very  old,  "  dreams  wandering  in  the  daylight." 

The  characters  of  this  play  seem,  in  a  sense,  to  arise 
out  of  the  theme  and  consequently  to  have,  amid  all 
their  dramatic  solidity,  a  further  significance  which 
is  almost  symbolic.  Cassandra  is,  as  it  were,  the 
incarnation  of  that  knowledge  which  Herodotus 
describes  as  the  crown  of  sorrow",  the  knowledge 
which  sees  and  warns  and  cannot  help  (Hdt.  ix.  16). 
Agamemnon  himself,  the  King  of  Kings,  triumphant 


xii  AESCHYLUS 

and  doomed,  is  a  symbol  of  pride  and  the  fall  of  pride. 
We  must  not  think  of  him  as  bad  or  specially  cruel. 
The  watchman  loved  him  (11.  34  f.),  and  the  lamenta- 
tions of  the  Elders  over  his  death  have  a  note  of 
personal  affection  ( pp.  66  ff . ) .  But  I  suspect  that 
Aeschylus,  a  believer  in  the  mystic  meaning  of  names, 
took  the  name  Agamemnon  to  be  a  warning  that 
"Aya  fxifxvBi,  "the  unseen  Wrath  abides."'  Aga,  of 
course,  is  not  exactly  wrath;  it  is  more  like  Nemesis, 
the  feeling  that  something  is  ayav,  "  too  much,"  the 
condemnation  of  Hubris  (pride  or  overgrowth)  and  of 
all  things  that  are  in  excess.  Agd  is  sometimes  called 
"  the  jealousy  of  God,"  but  such  a  translation  is  not 
happy.  It  is  not  the  jealousy,  nor  even  the  indignation, 
of  a  personal  God,  but  the  profound  repudiation  and 
reversal  of  Hubris  which  is  the  very  law  of  the  Cosmos. 
Through  all  the  triumph  of  the  conqueror,  this  Aga 
abides. 

The  greatest  and  most  human  character  of  the 
whole  play  is  Clytemnestra.  She  is  conceived  on 
the  grand  Aeschylean  scale,  a  scale  which  makes  even 
Lady  Macbeth  and  Beatrice  Cenci  seem  small;  she 
is  more  the  kinswoman  of  Brynhild.  Yet  she  is  full 
not  only  of  character,  but  of  subtle  psychology.  She 
is  the  first  and  leading  example  of  that  time-honoured 
ornament  of  the  tragic  stage,  the  sympathetic,  or 
semi-sympathetic,  heroine-criminal.  Aeschylus  em- 
ploys none  of  the  devices  of  later  playwrights  to  make 
her  interesting.  He  admits,  of  course,  no  approach 
to  a  love-scene;  he  uses  no  sophisms;  but  he  does 
make  us  see  through  Clytemnestra's  eyes  and  feel 
through  her  passions.  The  agony  of  silent  prayer 
in  which,  if  my  conception  is  right,  we  first  see  her, 


PREFACE  xiii 

helps  to  interpret  her  speeches  when  they  come;  but 
every  speech  needs  close  study.  She  dare  not  speak 
sincerely  or  show  her  real  feelings  until  Agamemnon 
is  dead ;  and  then  she  is  practically  a  mad  woman. 

For  I  think  here  that  there  is  a  point  which  has 
not  been  observed.  It  is  that  Clytemnestra  is  con- 
ceived as  being  really  "  possessed  "  by  the  Daemon 
of  the  House  when  she  commits  her  crime.  Her 
statements  on  p.  69  are  not  empty  metaphor.  A 
careful  study  of  the  scene  after  the  murder  will  show 
that  she  appears  first  "  possessed  "  and  almost  insane 
with  triumph,  utterly  dominating  the  Elders  and 
leaving  them  no  power  to  answer.  Then  gradually 
the  unnatural  force  dies  out  from  her.  The  deed 
that  was  first  an  ecstasy  of  delight  becomes  an 
"affliction"  (pp.  72,  76).  The  strength  that  defied 
the  world  flags  and  changes  into  a  longing  for  peace. 
She  has  done  her  work.  She  has  purified  the  House 
of  its  madness;  now  let  her  go  away  and  live  out  her 
life  in  quiet.  When  Aigisthos  appears,  and  the  scene 
suddenly  becomes  filled  with  the  wrangling  of  common 
men,  Clytemnestra  fades  into  a  long  silence,  from 
which  she  only  emerges  at  the  very  end  of  the  drama 
to  pray  again  for  Peace,  and,  strangest  of  all,  to  utter 
the  entreaty:  "  Let  us  not  stain  ourselves  with  blood!  " 
The  splash  of  her  husband's  blood  was  visible  on  her 
face  at  the  time.  Had  she  in  her  trance-like  state 
actually  forgotten,  or  did  she,  even  then,  not  feel  that 
particular  blood  to  be  a  stain  ? 

To  some  readers  it  will  seem  a  sort  of  irrelevance, 
or  at  least  a  blurring  of  the  dramatic  edge  of  this 
tragedy,  to  observe  that  the  theme  on  which  it  is 
founded  was  itself  the  central  theme  both  of  Greek 


xiv  AESCHYLUS 

Tragedy  and  of  Greek  Religion.  The  fall  of  Pride,  the 
avenging  of  wrong  by  wrong,  is  no  new  subject  selected 
by  Aeschylus.  It  forms  both  the  commonest  burden 
of  the  moralising  lyrics  in  Greek  tragedy  and 
even  of  the  tragic  myths  themselves ;  and  recent  writers 
have  shown  how  the  same  idea  touches  the  very  heart 
of  the  traditional  Greek  religion.  "  The  life  of  the 
Year-Daemon,  who  lies  at  the  root  of  so  many 
Greek  gods  and  heroes,  is  normally  a  story  of  Pride 
and  Punishment.  Each  year  arrives,  waxes  great, 
commits  the  sin  of  Hubris  and  must  therefore  die. 
It  is  the  way  of  all  Life.  As  an  early  philosopher 
expresses  it,  "  All  things  pay  retribution  for  their 
injustice  one  to  another  according  to  the  ordinance 
of  Time."  1 

To  me  this  consideration  actually  increases  the 
interest  and  beauty  of  the  Oresteia,  because  it  increases 
its  greatness.  The  majestic  art,  the  creative  genius, 
the  instinctive  eloquence  of  these  plays — that  eloquence 
which  is  the  mere  despair  of  a  translator — are  all 
devoted  to  the  expression  of  something  which  Aeschylus 
felt  to  be  of  tremendous  import.  It  was  not  his  dis- 
covery; but  it  was  a  truth  of  which  he  had  an  intense 
realization.  It  had  become  something  which  he  must 
with  all  his  strength  bring  to  expression  before  he 
died,  not  in  a  spirit  of  self-assertion  or  of  argument, 
like  a  discoverer,  but  as  one  devoted  to  something 
higher  and  greater  than  himself,  in  the  spirit  of  an 
interpreter  or  prophet. 

'  See  my  Four  Stages  of  Greek  Religion,  p.  47.  Cornford, 
From  Religion  to  Philosophy,  Chapter  I.  See  also  the  fine 
pages  on  the  Agamemnon  in  the  same  writer's  Thucydides 
Mythistoricus,  pp.  144,  ff.  (E.  Arnold  1907). 

G.M. 


AGAMEMNON 


CHARACTERS  IN  THE  PLAY 


Agamemnon,  son  of  Atreus  and  King  of  Argos  and  Mycenae; 

Commander-in-Chief  of  the  Greek  armies  in  the  War 

against  Troy. 
Clytemnestra,  daughter  of  Tyndareus,  sister  of  Helen;  wife 

to  Agamemnon. 
AiGiSTHOS,    son    of    Thyestes,    cousin    and    blood-enemy    to 

Agamemnon,   lover   to   Clytemnestra. 
Cassandra,  daughter  of  Priam,  King  of  Troy,  a  prophetess; 

noiv  slave  to  Agamemnon. 
A  Watchman. 
A  Herald. 
Chorus  of  Argive  Elders,  faithful  to  Agamemnon. 


CHARACTERS  MENTIONED  IN  THE 
PLAY 


Menelaus,  brother  to  Agamemnon,  husband  of  Helen,  and 

King  of  Sparta.     The  tiuo  sons  of  Atreus  are  called 

the  Atreidae. 
Helen,  most  beautiful  of  women;  daughter  of  Tyndareus, 

wife  to  Menelaus;  beloved  and  carried  off  by  Paris. 
Paris,  son  of  Priam,  King  of  Troy,  lover  of  Helen.     Also 

called  Alexander. 
Priam,  the  aged  King  of  Troy. 

The  Greeks  are  also  referred  to  as  Achaians,  Argives, 
Danaans;   Troy  is  also  called  I  lion. 

The  play  was  produced  in  the  archonship  of  Philocles 
(458    B.C.). 

The  first  prize  was  won  by  Aeschylus  with  the  "  Agamem- 
non," "  Libation-Bearers,"  "  Eumenides,"  and  the  Satyr 
Play  "Proteus." 


w.  1-17. 


THE  AGAMEMNON 

The  Scene  represents  a  space  in  front  of  the  Palace  of 
A gamemnon  in  Argos,  with  an  Altar  of  Zeus  in 
the  centre  and  many  other  altars  at  the  sides. 
On  a  high  terrace  of  the  roof  stands  a  Watch- 
man.   //  is  night. 

Watchman. 
This  waste  of  year-long  vigil  I  have  prayed 
God  for  some  respite,  watching  elbow-stayed, 
As  sleuthhounds  watch,  above  the  Atreidae's  hall, 
Till  well  I  know  yon  midnight  festival 
Of  swarming  stars,  and  them  that  lonely  go, 
Bearers  to  man  of  summer  and  of  snow, 
Great  lords  and  shining,  throned  in  heavenly  fire. 

And  still  I  await  the  sign,  the  beacon  pyre 
That  bears  Troy's  capture  on  a  voice  of  flame 
Shouting  o'erseas.    So  surely  to  her  aim 
Cleaveth  a  woman's  heart,  man-passioned! 
And  when  I  turn  me  to  my  bed — my  bed 
Dew-drenched  and  dark  and  stumbling,  to  which  near 
Cometh  no  dream  nor  sleep,  but  alway  Fear 
Breathes  round  it,  warning,  lest  an  eye  once  fain 
To  close  may  close  too  well  to  wake  again ; 
Think  I  perchance  to  sing  or  troll  a  tune 
For  medicine  against  sleep,  the  music  soon 


2  AESCHYLUS         w.  18-39. 

Changes  to  sighing  for  the  tale  untold 
Of  this  house,  not  well  mastered  as  of  old. 

Howbeit,  may  God  yet  send  us  rest,  and  light 
The  flame  of  good  news  flashed  across  the  night. 

[He  is  silent,  watching.    Suddenly  at  a  distance  in 
the  night  there  is  a  glimmer  of  fire,  increasing 
presently  to  a  blaze. 
Ha! 

0  kindler  of  the  dark,  O  daylight  birth 
Of  dawn  and  dancing  upon  Argive  earth 

For  this  great  end!     All  hail! — What  ho,  within! 
What  ho!    Bear  word  to  Agamemnon's  queen 
To  rise,  like  dawn,  and  lift  in  answer  strong 
To  this  glad  lamp  her  women's  triumph-song, 
If  verily,  verily,  Ilion's  citadel 
Is  fallen,  as  yon  beacons  flaming  tell. 

And  I  myself  will  tread  the  dance  before 
All  others;  for  my  master's  dice  I  score 
Good,  and  mine  own  to-night  three  sixes  plain. 

[Lights  begin  to  show  in  the  Palace. 
Oh,  good  or  ill,  my  hand  shall  clasp  again 
My  dear  lord's  hand,  returning!     Beyond  that 

1  speak  not.    A  great  ox  hath  laid  his  weight 
Across  my  tongue.     But  these  stone  walls  know  well, 
If  stones  had  speech,  what  tale  were  theirs  to  tell. 

For  me,  to  him  that  knoweth  I  can  yet 
Speak ;  if  another  questions  I  forget. 

[Exit  into  the  Palace.  The  women*s  "  Ololugef* 
or  triumph-cry,  is  heard  within  and  then 
repeated  again  and  again  further  off  in 
the  City,    Handmaids  and  Attendant!  eomt 


w.  40-6i.        AGAMEMNON  3 

from  the  Palace,  bearing  torches,  with  which 
they  kindle  incense  on  the  altars.  Among 
them  comes  Clytemnestra,  who  throws 
herself  on  her  knees  at  the  central  Altar  in 
an  agony  of  prayer. 

Presently  from  the  further  side  of  the  open 
space  appear  the  Chorus  of  Elders  and 
move  gradually  into  position  in  front  of  the 
Palace.    The  day  begins  to  dawn. 

Chorus. 
Ten  years  since  I  lion's  righteous  foes, 

The  Atreidae  strong, 
Menelaiis  and  eke  Agamemnon  arose, 
Two  thrones,  two  sceptres,  yoked  of  God; 
And  a  thousand  galleys  of  Argos  trod 

The  seas  for  the  righting  of  wrong; 
And  wrath  of  battle  about  them  cried. 

As  vultures  cry, 
Whose  nest  is  plundered,  and  up  they  fly 
In  anguish  lonely,  eddying  wide. 
Great  wings  like  oars  in  the  waste  of  sky. 
Their  task  gone  from  them,  no  more  to  keep 
Watch  o'er  the  vulture  babes  asleep. 
But  One  there  is  who  heareth  on  high 
Some  Pan  or  Zeus,  some  lost  Apollo — 
That  keen  bird-throated  suffering  cry 
Of  the  stranger  wronged  in  God's  own  sky; 
And  sendeth  down,  for  the  law  transgressed, 

The  Wrath  of  the  Feet  that  follow. 

So  Zeus  the  Watcher  of  Friend  and  Friend, 
Zeus  who  Prevaileth,  in  after  quest 


AESCHYLUS  vv.  62-88 

For  One  Beloved  by  Many  Men 
On  Paris  sent  the  Atreidae  twain ; 
Yea,  sent  him  dances  before  the  end 

For  his  bridal  cheer, 
Wrestlings  heavy  and  limbs  forespent 
For  Greek  and  Trojan,  the  knee  earth-bent, 
The  bloody  dust  and  the  broken  spear. 
He  knoweth,  that  which  is  here  is  here. 
And  that  which  Shall  Be  followeth  near; 
He  seeketh  God  with  a  great  desire, 
He  heaps  his  gifts,  he  essays  his  pyre 
With  torch  below  and  with  oil  above, 
With  tears,  but  never  the  wrath  shall  move 
Of  the  Altar  cold  that  rejects  his  fire. 

We  saw  the  Avengers  go  that  day. 
And  they  left  us  here ;  for  our  flesh  is  old 
And  serveth  not;  and  these  staves  uphold 
A  strength  like  the  strength  of  a  child  at  play. 
For  the  sap  that  springs  in  the  young  man's  hand 
And  the  valour  of  age,  they  have  left  the  land. 
And  the  passing  old,  while  the  dead  leaf  blows 
And  the  old  staff  gropeth  his  three-foot  way, 
Weak  as  a  babe  and  alone  he  goes, 
A  dream  left  wandering  in  the  day. 

[Coming  near  the  Central  Altar  they  see  Cly- 
TEMNESTRA,  who  is  Still  rapt  in  prayer. 

But  thou,  O  daughter  of  Tyndareus, 

Queen  Clytemnestra,  what  need?    What  news? 

What  tale  or  tiding  hath  stirred  thy  mood 

To  send  forth  word  upon  all  our  ways 

For  incensed  worship?    Of  every  god 


vv.  89-1 10.       AGAMEMNON  5 

That  guards  the  city,  the  deep,  the  high, 
Gods  of  the  mart,  gods  of  the  sky, 

The  altars  blaze. 

One  here,  one  there, 
To  the  skyey  night  the  firebrands  flare, 
Drunk  with  the  soft  and  guileless  spell 
Of  balm  of  kings  from  the  inmost  cell. 
Tell,  O  Queen,  and  reject  us  not, 
All  that  can  or  that  may  be  told. 
And  healer  be  to  this  aching  thought, 
Which  one  time  hovereth,  evil-cold, 
And  then  from  the  fires  thou  kindlest 
Will  Hope  be  kindled,  and  hungry  Care 
Fall  back  for  a  little  while,  nor  tear 
The  heart  that  beateth  below  my  breast. 

[Clytemnestra  rises  silently,  as  though  uncon- 
scious of  their  presence,  and  goes  into  the 
House.  The  Chorus  take  position  and  be- 
gin their  first  Stasimon,  or  Standing-song. 

Chorus. 

{The  sign  seen  on  the  way;  Eagles  tearing  a  hare 
with  young.) 

It  is  ours  to  tell  of  the  Sign  of  the  War-way  given, 

To  men  more  strong, 
(For  a  life  that  is  kin  unto  ours  yet  breathes  from 
heaven 
A  spell,  a  Strength  of  Song:) 
How  the  twin-throned  Might  of  Achaia,  one  Crown 
divided 
Above  all  Greeks  that  are, 


6  AESCHYLUS       w.  111-121. 

With  avenging  hand  and  spear  upon  Troy  was  guided 

By  the  Bird  of  War. 
'Twas  a  King  among  birds  to  each  of  the  Kings  of 
the  Sea, 
One  Eagle   black,  one  black  but  of  fire-white  tail, 
By  the  House,  on  the  Spear-hand,  in  station  that  all 

might  see ; 
And  they  tore  a  hare,  and  the  life  in  her  womb  that 

grew, 
Yea,    the    life    unlived    and    the    races    unrun    they 
slew. 
Sorrow,  sing  sorrow:  but  good  prevail,  prevail! 

{How  Calchas  read  the  sign;  his  Vision  of  the  Future.) 

And  the  War-seer  wise,  as  he  looked  on  the  Atreid 
Yoke 
Twain-tempered,  knew 
Those  fierce  hare- renders  the  lords  of  his  host;  and 
spoke, 
Reading  the  omen  true. 
"  At  the  last,  the  last,  this  Hunt  hunteth  Ilion  down. 

Yea,  and  before  the  wall 
Violent  division  the  fulness  of  land  and  town 

Shall  waste  withal; 
If  only  God's  eye  gloom  not  against  our  gates. 

And   the   great   War-curb   of   Troy,    fore-smitten, 
fail. 
For  Pity  lives,  and  those  winged  Hounds  she  hates. 
Which   tore   in   the  Trembler's   body   the   unborn 
beast. 
And  Artemis  abhorreth  the  eagles'  feast." 

Sorrow,  sing  sorrow:  but  good  prevail,  prevail/ 


w.  122-164.     AGAMEMNON  7 

{He  prays  to  Artemis  to  grant  the  fulfilment  of  the 
Sign,  but,  as  his  vision  increases,  he  is  afraid  and 
calls  on  Paian,  the  Healer,  to  hold  her  back.) 

"  Thou  beautiful  One,  thou  tender  lover 

Of  the  dewy  breath  of  the  Lion's  child ; 
Thou  the  delight,  through  den  and  cover, 
Of  the  young  life  at  the  breast  of  the  wild, 
Yet,  oh,  fulfill,  fulfill    The  sign  of  the  Eagles'  Kill! 
Be  the  vision  accepted,  albeit  horrible.   .    .    . 
But  I-e,  I-e!    Stay  her,  O  Paian,  stay! 
For  lo,  upon  other  evil  her  heart  she  setteth, 

Long  wastes  of  wind,  held  ship  and  unventured  sea, 
On,  on,  till  another  Shedding  of  Blood  be  wrought: 
They  kill  but  feast  not;  they  pray  not;  the  law  is 

broken ; 
Strife  in  the  flesh,  and  the  bride  she  obeyeth  not. 
And    beyond,    beyond,    there    abideth    in    wrath    re- 
awoken — 
It  plotteth,  it  haunteth  the  house,  yea,  it  never  for- 
gettcth — 
Wrath  for  a  child  to  be." 
So  Calchas,  reading  the  wayside  eagles'  sign, 

Spake  to  the  Kings,  blessings  and  words  of  bale; 
And  like  his  song  be  thine. 
Sorrow,  sing  sorrow:  but  good  prevail,  prevail/ 

(Such  religion  belongs  to  old  and  barbarous  gods,  and 
brings  no  peace.  I  turn  to  Zeus,  who  has  shown 
man  how  to  Learn  by  Suffering.) 

Zeus!    Zeus,  whate'er  He  be, 

If  this  name  He  love  to  hear 

This  He  shall  be  called  of  me. 

Searching  earth  and  sea  and  air 


AESCHYLUS       w.  165-1J 

Refuge  nowhere  can  I  find 
Save  Him  only,  if  my  mind 
Will  cast  off  before  it  die 
The  burden  of  this  vanity. 


One  there  was  who  reigned  of  old, 
Big  with  wrath  to  brave  and  blast, 
Lo,  his  name  is  no  more  told! 
And  who  followed  met  at  last 
His  Third-thrower,  and  is  gone. 
Only  they  whose  hearts  have  known 
Zeus,  the  Conqueror  and  the  Friend, 
They  shall  win  their  vision's  end ; 

Zeus  the  Guide,  who  made  man  turn 
Thought-ward,  Zeus,  who  did  ordain 
Man  by  Suffering  shall  Learn. 
So  the  heart  of  him,  again 
Aching  with  remembered  pain. 
Bleeds  and  sleepeth  not,  until 
Wisdom  comes  against  his  will. 
'Tis  the  gift  of  One  by  strife 
Lifted  to  the  throne  of  life. 


(Agamemnon   accepted  the  sign.     Then  came  long 
delays  and  storm  while  the  fleet  lay  at  Aulis.) 

So  that  day  the  Elder  Lord, 
Marshal  of  the  Achaian  ships, 
Strove  not  with  the  prophet's  word, 
Bowed  him  to  his  fate's  eclipse, 
When  with  empty  jars  and  lips 


w.  189-215.     AGAMEMNON  9 

Parched  and  seas  impassable 
Fate  on  that  Greek  army  fell, 
Fronting  Chalcis  as  it  lay, 
By  Aulis  in  the  swirling  bay. 

( Till  at  last  Calchas  answered  that  Artemis  was  wroth 
and  demanded  the  death  of  Agamemnon's  daugh- 
ter.    The  Kind's  doubt  and  grief.) 

And  winds,  winds     blew  from  Strymon  River, 
Unharboured,  starving,     winds  of  waste  endeavour, 
Man-blinding,  pitiless     to  cord  and  bulwark. 

And  the  waste  of  days     was  made  long,  more  long, 
Till  the  flower  of  Argos     was  aghast  and  withered; 

Then  through  the  storm     rose  the  War-seer's  song, 
And  told  of  medicine     that  should  tame  the  tempest, 

But  bow  the  Princes     to  a  direr  wrong. 
Then  "Artemis"  he  whispered,  he  named  the  name; 
And  the  brother  Kings  they  shook  in  the  hearts  of 

them. 
And  smote  on  the  earth  their  staves,  and  the  tears 
came. 

But    the    King,    the   elder,      hath   found    voice    and 

spoken : 
"  A  heavy  doom,  sure,     if  God's  will  were  broken ; 
But  to  slay  mine  own  child,     who  my  house  delighteth. 

Is  that  not  heavy  ?       That  her  blood  should  flow 
On  her  father's  hand,     hard  beside  an  altar? 

My  path  is  sorrow     wheresoe'er  I  go. 
Shall  Agamemnon     fail  his  ships  and  people, 

And  the  hosts  of  Hellas     melt  as  melts  the  snow? 
They  cry,  they  thirst,  for  a  death  that  shall  break 
the  spell, 


lo  AESCHYLUS       w.  216-241. 

For  a  Virgin's  blood :  'tis  a  rite  of  old,  men  tell. 
And  they  bum  with  longing. — O  God  may  the  end 
be  well!" 

{But  ambition  drove  him,  till  he  consented  to  the  sin  of 
slaying  his  daughter,  Iphigenia,  as  a  sacrifice.) 

To  the  yoke  of  Must-Be     he  bowed  him  slowly, 

And  a  strange  wind     within  his  bosom  tossed, 
A  wind  of  dark  thought,     unclean,  unholy; 

And  he  rose  up,  daring     to  the  uttermost. 
For  men  are  boldened     by  a  Blindness,  straying 

Toward  base  desire,     which  brings  grief  hereafter, 
Yea,  and  itself  is  grief; 
So  this  man  hardened     to  his  own  child's  slaying. 

As  help  to  avenge  him     for  a  woman's  laughter 
And  bring  his  ships  relief ! 

Her  "  Father,  Father,"     her  sad  cry  that  lingered. 

Her  virgin  heart's  breath     they  held  all  as  naught. 
Those  bronze-clad  witnesses     and  battle-hungered; 
And  there  they  prayed,  and     when  the  prayer  was 
wrought 
He  charged  the  young  men     to  uplift  and  bind  her. 
As  ye  lift  a  wild  kid,     high  above  the  altar. 

Fierce-huddling  forward,     fallen,  clinging  sore 
To  the  robe  that  wrapt  her ;  yea,  he  bids  them  hinder 
The  sweet  mouth's  utterance,     the  cries  that  falter, 
— His  curse  for  evermore! — 

With  violence  and  a  curb's  voiceless  wrath. 

Her  stole  of  saffron  then  to  the  ground  she  threw. 
And  her  eye  with  an  arrow  of  pity  found  its  path 
To  each  man's  heart  that  slew : 


vv.  242-267.     AGAMEMNON  n 

A  face  in  a  picture,  striving  amazedly ; 

The  little  maid  who  danced  at  her  father's  board, 
The  innocent  voice  man's  love  came  never  nigh, 
Who  joined  to  his  her  little  paean-cry 

When  the  third  cup  was  poured.   .    .    . 

What  came  thereafter  I  saw  not  neither  tell. 

But  the  craft  of  Calchas  failed  not. — 'Tis  written,  He 
Who  Suffereth  Shall  Learn ;  the  law  holdeth  well. 

And  that  which  is  to  be, 
Ye  will  know  at  last;  why  weep  before  the  hour? 

For  come  it  shall,  as  out  of  darkness  dawn. 
Only  may  good  from  all  this  evil  flower; 
So  prays  this  Heart  of  Argos,  this  frail  tower 
Guarding  the  land  alone. 

[/is  they  cease,  Clytemnestra  comes  from  the 
Palace  with  Attendants.  She  has  finished  her 
prayer  and  sacrifice,  and  is  now  wrought  up 
to  face  the  meeting  with  her  husband.  The 
Leader  approaches  her. 

Leader. 
Before  thy  state,  O  Queen,  I  bow  mine  eyes. 
'Tis  written,  when  the  man's  throne  empty  lies, 
The  woman  shall  be  honoured. — Hast  thou  heard 
Some  tiding  sure  ?    Or  is  it  Hope,  hath  stirred 
To  fire  these  altars?    Dearly  though  we  seek 
To  learn,  'tis  thine  to  speak  or  not  to  speak. 

Clytemnestra. 
Glad-voiced,  the  old  saw  telleth,  comes  this  morn, 
The  Star-child  of  a  dancing  midnight  born, 
And  beareth  to  thine  ear  a  word  of  joy 
Beyond  all  hope:  the  Greek  hath  taken  Troy. 


12  AESCHYLUS       w.  268-278. 

Leader. 
How? 
Thy  word  flies  past  me,  being  incredible. 

Clytemnestra. 
Ilion  is  ours.    No  riddling  tale  I  tell. 

Leader. 
Such  joy  comes  knocking  at  the  gate  of  tears. 

Clytemnestra. 
Aye,  'tis  a  faithful  heart  that  eye  declares. 

Leader. 
What  warrant  hast  thou?    Is  there  proof  of  this? 

Clytemnestra. 
There  is;  unless  a  God  hath  lied  there  is. 

Leader. 
Some  dream-shape  came  to  thee  in  speaking  guise? 

Clytemnestra. 
Who  deemeth  me  a  dupe  of  drowsing  eyes? 

Leader. 
Some  word  within  that  hovereth  without  wings? 

Clytemnestra. 
Am  I  a  child  to  hearken  to  such  things? 

Leader. 
Troy  fallen? — But  how  long?    When  fell  she,  say? 


vv.  279-306.     AGAMEMNON  13 

Clytemnestra. 
The  very  night  that  mothered  this  hew  day. 

?  Leader. 

And  wh(^  of  heralds  with  such  fury  came  ? 

Clytemnestra. 
A  Fire-god,  from  Mount  Ida  scattering  flame. 
Whence  starting,  beacon  after  beacon  burst 
In  flaming  message  hitherward.    Ida  first 
Told  Hermes'  Lemnian  Rock,  whose  answering  sign 
Was  caught  by  towering  Athos,  the  divine. 
With  pines  immense — yea,  fishes  of  the  night 
Swam  skyward,  drunken  with  that  leaping  light, 
Which  swelled  like  some  strange  sun,  till  dim  and  far 
Makistos'  watchmen  marked  a  glimmering  star; 
They,  nowise  loath  nor  idly  slumber-won, 
Spring  up  to  hurl  the  fiery  message  on. 
And  a  far  light  beyond  the  Eurtpus  tells 
That  word  hath  reached  Messapion's  sentinels. 
They  beaconed  back,  then  onward  with  a  high 
Heap  of  dead  heather  flaming  to  the  sky. 
And  onward  still,  not  failing  nor  aswoon, 
Across  the  Asopus  like  a  beaming  moon 
The  great  word  leapt,  and  on  Kithariron's  height 
Uproused  a  new  relay  of  racing  light. 
His  watchers  knew  the  wandering  flame,  nor  hid 
Their  welcome,  burning  higher  than  was  bid. 
Out  over  Lake  Gorgopis  then  it  floats. 
To  Aigiplanctos,  waking  the  wild  goats, 
Crying  for  "  Fire,  more  Fire!  "    And  fire  was  reared, 
Stintless  and  high,  a  stormy  streaming  beard, 


H  AESCHYLUS       w.  307-330. 

That  waved  in  flame  beyond  the  promontory 
Rock-ridged,  that  watches  the  Saronian  sea, 
Kindling  the  night :  then  one  short  swoop  to  catch 
The  Spider's  Crag,  our  city's  tower  of  watch  ; 
Whence  hither  to  the  Atreidae's  roof  it  came, 
A  light  true-fathered  of  Idaean  flame. 
Torch-bearer  after  torch-bearer,  behold 
The  tale  thereof  in  stations  manifold. 
Each  one  by  each  made  perfect  ere  it  passed, 
And  Victory  in  the  first  as  in  the  last. 
These  be  my  proofs  and  tokens  that  my  lord 
From  Troy  hath  spoke  to  me  a  burning  word. 

Leader. 
Woman,  speak  on.    Hereafter  shall  my  prayer 
Be  raised  to  God ;  now  let  me  only  hear, 
Again  and  full,  the  marvel  and  the  joy. 

Clytemnestra. 
Now,  even  now,  the  Achaian  holdeth  Troy! 
Methinks  there  is  a  crying  in  her  streets 
That    makes    no    concord.      When    sweet    unguent 

meets 
With  vinegar  in  one  phial,  I  warrant  none 
Shall  lay  those  wranglers  lovingly  at  one. 
So  conquerors  and  conquered  shalt  thou  hear, 
Two  sundered  tones,  two  lives  of  joy  or  fear. 
Here  women  in  the  dust  about  their  slain, 
Husbands  or  brethren,  and  by  dead  old  men 
Pale  children  who  shall  never  more  be  free, 
For  all  they  loved  on  earth  cry  desolately. 
And  hard  beside  them  war-stained  Greeks,  whom  stark 
Battle  and  then  long  searching  through  the  dark 


w.  331-354-     AGAMEMNON  15 

Hath  gathered,  ravenous,  in  the  dawn,  to  feast 

At  last  on  all  the  plenty  Troy  possessed, 

No  portion  in  that  feast  nor  ordinance, 

But  each  man  clutching  at  the  prize  of  chance. 

Aye,  there  at  last  under  good  roofs  they  lie 

Of  men  spear-quelled,  no  frosts  beneath  the  sky, 

No  watches  more,  no  bitter  moony  dew.   .    .    . 

How    blessed     they    will     sleep     the    whole     night 

through ! 
Oh,  if  these  days  they  keep  them  free  from  sin 
Toward  Ilion's  conquered  shrines  and  Them  within 
Who  watch  unconquered,  maybe  not  again 
The  smiter  shall  be  smit,  the  taker  ta'en. 
May  God  but  grant  there  fall  not  on  that  host 
The  greed  of  gold  that  maddeneth  and  the  lust 
To  spoil  inviolate  things !    But  half  the  race 
Is  run  which  windeth  back  to  home  and  peace. 
Yea,  though  of  God  they  pass  unchallenged, 
Methinks  the  wound  of  all  those  desolate  dead 
Might  waken,  groping  for  its  will.   .    .    . 

Ye  hear 
A  woman's  word,  belike  a  woman's  fear. 
May  good  but  conquer  in  the  last  incline 
Of  the  balance !    Of  all  prayers  that  prayer  is  mine. 

Leader. 
O  Woman,  like  a  man  faithful  and  wise 
Thou  speakest.     I  accept  thy  testimonies 
And  turn  to  God  with  praising,  for  a  gain 
Is  won  this  day  that  pays  for  all  our  pain. 

(Clytemnestra  returns  to  the  Palace.  The 
Chorus  take  up  their  position  for  the  Second 
Stasimon. 


i6  AESCHYLUS       w.  355-378. 

An  Elder. 

0  Zeus,  All-ruler,  and  Night  the  Aid, 
Gainer  of  glories,  and  hast  thou  thrown 
Over  the  towers  of  Ilion 

Thy  net  close-laid. 
That  none  so  nimble  and  none  so  tall 
Shall  escape  withal 
The.snare  of  the  slaver  that  claspeth  all  ? 

Another. 
And  Zeus  the  Watcher  of  Friend  and  Friend 

1  also  praise,  who  hath  wrought  this  end. 
Long  since  on  Paris  his  shaft  he  drew, 

And  hath  aimed  true. 
Not  too  soon  falling  nor  yet  too  far, 
The  fire  of  the  avenging  star. 

Chorus. 
{This  is  God's  judgement  upon  Troy.    May  it  not  be 
too  fierce!     Gold  cannot  save  one  who  spurneth 
Justice. ) 

The  stroke  of  Zeus  hath  found  them !     Clear  this  day 

The  tale,  and  plain  to  trace. 
He  judged,  and  Troy  hath  fallen. — And  have  men  said 
That  God  not  deigns  to  mark  man's  hardihead. 

Trampling  to  earth  the  grace 
Of  holy  and  delicate  things? — Sin  lies  that  way. 
For  visibly  Pride  doth  breed  its  own  return 

On  prideful  men,  who,  when  their  houses  swell 

With  happy  wealth,   breathe  ever  wrath  and 
blood. 
Yet  not  too  fierce  let  the  due  vengeance  burn ; 


w.  379-405.     AGAMEMNON  17 

Only  as  deemeth  well 
One  wise  of  mood. 

Never  shall  state  nor  gold 

Shelter  his  heart  from  aching 
Whoso  the  Altar  of  Justice  old 

Spurneth  to  Night  un waking. 

( The  Sinner  suffers  in  his  longing  till  at  last  Tempta- 
tion overcomes  him;  as  longing  for  Helen  over- 
came Paris.) 

The  tempting  of  misery  forceth  him,  the  dread 

Child  of  fore-scheming  Woe !  > 

And  help  is  vain ;  the  fell  desire  within 
Is  veiled  not,  but  shineth  bright  like  Sin : 

And  as  false  gold  will  show 
Black  where  the  touchstone  trieth,  so  doth  fade 
His  honour  in  God's  ordeal.     Like  a  child, 
Forgetting  all,  he  hath  chased  his  winged  bird, 
And  planted  amid  his  people  a  sharp  thorn. 
And  no  God  hears  his  prayer,  or,  have  they  heard, 
The  man  so  base-beguiled 
They  cast  to  scorn. 

Paris  to  Argos  came ; 

Love  of  a  woman  led  him ; 
So  God's  altar  he  brought  to  shame. 

Robbing  the  hand  that  fed  him. 

{Helens  flight;  the  visions  seen  by  the  King's  seers; 
the  phantom  of  Helen  and  the  King's  grief.) 

She  hath  left  among  her  people     a  noise  of  shield  and 
sword, 
A  tramp  of  men  armed     where  the  long  ships  are 
moored ; 


i8  AESCHYLUS       w.  406-426. 

She  hath  ta'en  in  her  goings     Desolation  as  a  dower; 
She  hath  stept,  stept  quickly,     through  the  great  gated 
Tower, 
And  the  thing  that  could  not  be,     it  hath  been ! 
And  the  Seers  they  saw  visions,     and  they  spoke  of 
strange  ill: 
"  A  Palace,  a  Palace;     and  a  great  King  thereof: 
A  bed,   a  bed   empty,      that  was  once  pressed   in 
love: 
And  thou,  thou,  what  art  thou?       Let  us  be,  thou 
so  still, 
Beyond  wrath,  beyond  beseeching,     to  the  lips  reft 

of  thee!" 
For  she  whom  he  desireth     is  beyond  the  deep  sea, 
And  a  ghost  in  his  castle     shall  be  queen. 

Images  in  sweet  guise 

Carven  shall  move  him  never, 

Where  is  Love  amid  empty  eyes? 
Gone,  gone  for  ever! 

^  (His  dreams  and  his  suffering;  but  the  War  that  he 
made  caused  greater  and  wider  suffering.) 

But  a  shape  that  is  a  dream,     'mid  the  phantoms  of 

the  night, 
Cometh    near,    full    of    tears,    bringing    vain    vain 

delight : 
For  in  vain  when,   desiring,     he  can  feel  the  joy's 

breath 
— ^Nevermore!       Nevermore! — from     his     arms     it 

vanisheth, 
On  wings  down  the  pathways  of  sleep. 


vv.  427-451.     AGAMEMNON  19 

In  the  mid  castle  hall,     on  the  hearthstone  of  the 

Kings, 
These  griefs  there  be,     and  griefs  passing  these. 
But  in  each  man's  dwelling    of  the  host  that  sailed 

the  seas, 
A   sad    woman   waits;     she   has   thoughts   of   many 

things, 
And  patience  in  her  heart  lieth  deep. 

Knoweth  she  them  she  sent, 
Knoweth  she?    Lo,  returning. 

Comes  in  stead  of  the  man  that  went 
Armour  and  dust  of  burning. 

{The  return  of  the  funeral  urns;  the  murmurs  of  the 
People.) 

And    the    gold-changer.    Ares,     who    changeth    quick 

for  dead, 
Who    poiseth    his    scale      in    the    striving    of    the 

spears, 
Back  from  Troy  sendeth  dust,     heavy  dust,  wet  with 

tears, 
Sendeth  ashes  with  men's  names     in  his  urns  neatly 

spread. 
And  they  weep  over  the  men,     and  they  praise  them 

one  by  one. 
How    this    was    a    wise    fighter,      and    this    nobly 

slain — 

"  Fighting  to  win  back  another's  wife!  " 
Till  a  murmur  is  begun. 

And  there  steals  an  angry  pain 

Against  Kings  too  forward  in  the  strife. 


20  AESCHYLUS       w.  452-478. 

There  by  IHon's  gate 

Many  a  soldier  sleepeth, 
Young  men  beautiful ;  fast  in  hate 

Troy  her  conqueror  keepeth. 

{For  the  Shedder  of  Blood  is  in  great  peril,  and 
not  unmarked  by  God.  May  I  never  be  a  Sacker 
of  Cities/) 

But  the  rumour  of  the  People,    it  is  heavy,  it  is  chill ; 
And  tho'  no  curse  be  spoken,     like  a  curse  doth  it 

brood ; 
And   my   heart  waits  some   tiding     which    the   dark 

holdeth  still, 
For  of  God  not  unmarked     is  the  shedder  of  much 

blood. 
And  who  conquers  beyond  right     .  .   .  Lo,  the  life  of 

man  decays; 
There  be  Watchers  dim  his  light  in  the  wasting  of 
the  years; 

He  falls,  he  is  forgotten,  and  hope  dies. 
There  is  peril  in  the  praise 

Over-praised  that  he  hears; 

For  the  thunder  it  is  hurled  from  God's  eyes. 

Glory  that  breedeth  strife. 

Pride  of  the  Sacker  of  Cities ; 
Yea,  and  the  conquered  captive's  life, 

Spare  me,  O  God  of  Pities! 

Divers  Elders. 
— The   fire   of   good    tidings   it   hath   sped    the   city 
through, 
But  who  knows  if  a  god  mocketh?    Or  who  knows 
if  all  be  true? 


w.  479-500.     AGAMEMNON  21 

'Twere  the  fashion  of  a  child, 
Or  a  brain  dream-beguiled, 
To  be  kindled  by  the  first 
Torch's  message  as  it  burst, 
And  thereafter,  as  it  dies,  to  die  too. 

— *Tis  like  a  woman's  sceptre,  to  ordain 
Welcome  to  joy  before  the  end  is  plain ! 

— Too  lightly  opened  are  a  woman's  ears; 
Her  fence  downtrod  by  many  trespassers. 

And  quickly  crossed ;  but  quickly  lost 
The  burden  of  a  woman's  hopes  or  fears. 

J[Here  a  break  occurs  in  the  action,  like  the  descent 
of  the  curtain  in  a  modern  theatre.  A  space 
of  some  days  is  assumed  to  have  passed  and 
we  find  the  Elders  again  assembled. 

Leader. 
Soon  surely  shall  we  read  the  message  right; 
Were  fire  and  beacon-call  and  lamps  of  light 
True  speakers,  or  but  happy  lights  that  seem 
And  are  not,  like  sweet  voices  in  a  dream. 
I  see  a  Herald  yonder  by  the  shore, 
Shadowed  with  olive  sprays.    And  from  his  sore 
Rent  raiment  cries  a  witness  from  afar, 
Dry  Dust,  born  brother  to  the  Mire  of  war, 
That  mute  he  comes  not,  neither  through  the  smoke 
Of  mountain  forests  shall  his  tale  be  spoke ; 
But  either  shouting  for  a  joyful  day. 
Or  else.   .    .    .   But  other  thoughts  I  cast  away. 
As  good  hath  dawned,  may  good  shine  on,  we  pray! 


22  AESCHYLUS       w.  501-521. 

— ^And  whoso  for  this  City  prayeth  aught 

Else,  let  him  reap  the  harvest  of  his  thought! 

[Enter  the  Herald,  running.  His  garments  are 
torn  and  ivar-stained.  He  falls  upon  his 
knees  and  kisses  the  Earth,  and  salutes  each 
Altar  in  turn. 

Herald. 
Land  of  my  fathers !    Argos !    Am  I  here  .    .    . 
Home,  home  at  this  tenth  shining  of  the  year, 
And  all  Hope's  anchors  broken  save  this  one ! 
For  scarcely  dared  I  dream,  here  in  mine  own 
Argos  at  last  to  fold  me  to  my  rest.   .    .    . 
But  now— All  Hail,  O  Earth!     O  Sunlight  blest! 
And  Zeus  Most  High! 

[Checking  himself  as  he  sees  the  altar  of  Apollo. 
And  thou,  O  Pythian  Lord; 
No  more  on  us  be  thy  swift  arrows  poured ! 
Beside  Scamander  well  we  learned  how  true 
Thy  hate  is.    Oh,  as  thou  art  Healer  too, 
Heal  us!    As  thou  art  Saviour  of  the  Lost, 
Save  also  us,  Apollo,  being  so  tossed 
With  tempest !   .    .    .  All  ye  Daemons  of  the  Pale ! 
And  Hermes!    Hermes,  mine  own  guardian,  hail! 
Herald  beloved,  to  whom  all  heralds  bow.   .    .    . 
Ye  Blessed  Dead  that  sent  us,  receive  now 
In  love  your  children  whom  the  spear  hath  spared. 
O  House  of  Kings,  O  roof-tree  thrice-endeared, 
O  solemn  thrones!    O  gods  that  face  the  sun! 
Now,  now,  if  ever  in  the  days  foregone. 
After  these  many  years,  with  eyes  that  burn, 
Give  hail  and  glory  to  your  King's  return! 


w.  522-542.     AGAMEMNON  23 

For  Agamemnon  cometh!    A  great  light 
Cometh  to  men  and  gods  out  of  the  night. 

Grand  greeting  give  him — aye,  it  need  be  grand — 
Who,  God's  avenging  mattock  in  his  hand, 
Hath   wrecked   Troy's   towers   and   digged    her   soil 

beneath. 
Till  her  gods'  houses,  they  are  things  of  death; 
Her  altars  waste,  and  blasted  every  seed 
Whence  life  might  rise !    So  perfect  is  his  deed, 
So  dire  the  yoke  on  Ilion  he  hath  cast, 
The  first  Atreides,  King  of  Kings  at  last, 
And  happy  among  men!    To  whom  we  give 
Honour  most  high  above  all  things  that  live. 

For  Paris  nor  his  guilty  land  can  score 
The  deed  they  wrought  above  the  pain  they  bore. 
"Spoiler  and  thief,"  he  heard  God's  judgement  pass; 
Whereby  he  lost  his  plunder,  and  like  grass 
Mowed  down  his  father's  house  and  all  his  land; 
And  Troy  pays  twofold  for  the  sin  she  planned. 

Leader. 
Be  glad,  thou  Herald  of  the  Greek  from  Troy! 

Herald. 
So  glad,  I  am  ready,  if  God  will,  to  die! 

Leader. 
Did  love  of  this  land  work  thee  such  distress? 

Herald. 
The  tears  stand  in  mine  eyes  for  happiness. 

Leader. 
Sweet  sorrow  was  it,  then,  that  on  you  fell. 


24  AESCHYLUS       vv.  543-558. 

Herald. 
How  sweet?    I  cannot  read  thy  parable. 

Leader. 
To  pine  again  for  them  that  loved  you  true. 

Herald. 
Did  ye  then  pine  for  us,  as  we  for  you  ? 

Leader. 
The  whole  land's  heart  was  dark,  and  groaned  for 
thee. 

Herald. 
Dark?     For  what  cause?     Why  should  such  dark- 
ness be? 

Leader. 
Silence  in  wrong  is  our  best  medicine  here. 

Herald. 
Your  kings  were  gone.     What  others  need  you  fear? 

Leader. 
'Tis  past !    Like  thee  now,  I  could  gladly  die. 

Herald. 
Even  so!    'Tis  past,  and  all  is  victory. 
And,  for  our  life  in  those  long  years,  there  were 
Doubtless  some  grievous  days,  and  some  were  fair. 
Who  but  a  god  goes  woundless  all  his  way?  .    .    . 

Oh,  could  I  tell  the  sick  toil  of  the  day, 
The  evil  nights,  scant  decks  ill-blanketed ; 
The  rage  and  cursing  when  our  daily  bread 
Came  not!     And  then  on  land  'twas  worse  than  all. 


vv.  559-586.     AGAMEMNON  25 

Our  quarters  close  beneath  the  enemy's  wall; 
And  rain — and  from  the  ground  the  river  dew — 
Wet,  always  wet!    Into  our  clothes  it  grew, 
Plague-like,  and  bred  foul  beasts  in  every  hair. 

Would  I  could  tell  how  ghastly  midwinter 
Stole  down  from  Ida  till  the  birds  dropped  dead! 
Or  the  still  heat,  when  on  his  noonday  bed 
The  breathless  blue  sea  sank  without  a  wave !   .    .    . 

Why  think  of  it?    They  are  past  and  in  the  grave, 
All  those  long  troubles.    For  I  think  the  slain 
Care  little  if  they  sleep  or  rise  again; 
And  we,  the  living,  wherefore  should  we  ache 
With  counting  all  our  lost  ones,  till  we  wake 
The  old  malignant  fortunes?    If  Good-bye 
Comes  from  their  side.  Why,  let  them  go,  say  I. 
Surely  for  us,  who  live,  good  doth  prevail 
Unchallenged,  with  no  wavering  of  the  scale ; 
Wherefore  we  vaunt  unto  these  shining  skies. 
As  wide  o'er  sea  and  land  our  glory  flies : 
"  By  men  of  Argolis  who  conquered  Troy, 
These  spoils,  a  memory  and  an  ancient  joy, 
Are  nailed  in  the  gods'  houses  throughout  Greece." 
Which  whoso  readeth  shall  with  praise  increase 
Our  land,  our  kings,  and  God's  grace  manifold 
Which  made  these  marvels  be. — My  tale  is  told. 

Leader. 
Indeed  thou  conquerest  me.     Men  say,  the  light 
In  old  men's  eyes  yet  serves  to  learn  aright. 
But  Clytemnestra  and  the  House  should  hear 
These  tidings  first,  though  I  their  health  may  share. 
[During  the  last  words  Clytemnestra  has  en- 
tered from  the  Palace. 


26  AESCHYLUS       w.  587-614. 

Clytemnestra. 
Long  since  I  lifted  up  my  voice  in  joy, 
When  the  first  messenger  from  flaming  Troy 
Spake  through  the  dark  of  sack  and  overthrow. 
And  mockers  chid  me :  "  Because  beacons  show 
On  the -hills,  must  Troy  be  fallen?    Quickly  born 
Are  women's  hopes!  "    Aye,  many  did  me  scorn; 
Yet  gave  I  sacrifice;  and  by  my  word 
Through     all     the     city     our     woman's     cry     was 

heard, 
Lifted  in  blessing  round  the  seats  of  God, 
And  slumbrous  incense  o'er  the  altars  glowed 
In  fragrance. 

And  for  thee,  what  need  to  tell 
Thy  further  tale?    My  lord  himself  shall  well 
Instruct  me.    Yet,  to  give  my  lord  and  king 
All  reverent  greeting  at  his  homecoming — 
What  dearer  dawn  on  woman's  eyes  can  flame 
Than  this,  which  casteth  wide  her  gate  to  acclaim 
The  husband  whom  God  leadeth  safe  from  war? — 
Go,  bear  my  lord  this  prayer :  That  fast  and  far 
He  haste  him  to  this  town  which  loves  his  name ; 
And  in  his  castle  may  he  find  the  same 
Wife  that  he  left,  a  watchdog  of  the  hall, 
True  to  one  voice  and  fierce  to  others  all ; 
A  body  and  soul  unchanged,  no  seal  of  his 
Broke  in  the  waiting  years. — No  thought  of  ease 
Nor  joy  from  other  men  hath  touched  my  soul. 
Nor  shall  touch,  until  bronze  be  dyed  like  wool. 

A  boast  so  faithful  and  so  plain,  I  wot. 
Spoke  by  a  royal  Queen  doth  shame  her  not. 

[Exit  Clytemnestra. 


vv.  615-633.     AGAMEMNON  27 

Leader. 
Let  thine  ear  mark  her  message.     'Tis  of  fair 
Seeming,  and  craves  a  clear  interpreter.   .    .    . 
But,  Herald,  I  would  ask  thee;  tell  me  true 
Of  Menelaiis.    Shall  he  come  with  you, 
Our  land's  beloved  crown,  untouched  of  ill? 

Herald. 
I  know  not  how  to  speak  false  words  of  weal 
For  friends  to  reap  thereof  a  harvest  true. 

Leader. 
Canst  speak  of  truth  with  comfort  joined  ?    Those  two 
Once  parted,  'tis  a  gulf  not  lightly  crossed. 

Herald. 
Your  king  is  vanished  from  the  Achaian  host. 
He  and  his  ship!     Such  comfort  have  I  brought. 

Leader. 
Sailed  he  alone  from  Troy  ?    Or  was  he  caught 
By  storms  in  the  midst  of  you,  and  swept  away? 

Herald. 
Thou  hast  hit  the  truth;  good  marksman,  as  men  say! 
And  long  to  suffer  is  but  brief  to  tell. 

Leader. 
How  ran  the  sailors'  talk?    Did  there  prevail 
One  rumour,  showing  him  alive  or  dead  ? 

Herald. 
None  knoweth,  none  hath  tiding,  save  the  head 
Of  Helios,  ward  and  watcher  of  the  world. 


28  AESCHYLUS       w.  634-659. 

Leader.    ' 
Then  tell  us  of  the  storm.    How,  when  God  hurled 
His  anger,  did  it  rise?    How  did  it  die? 

Herald. 
It  likes  me  not,  a  day  of  presage  high 
With  dolorous  tongue  to  stain.    Those  twain,  I  vow, 
Stand  best  apart.    When  one  with  shuddering  brow, 
From  armies  lost,  back  beareth  to  his  home 
Word  that  the  terror  of  her  prayers  is  come; 
One  wound  in  her  great  heart,  and  many  a  fate 
For  many  a  home  of  men  cast  out  to  sate 
The  two-fold  scourge  that  worketh  Ares'  lust, 
Spear  crossed  with  spear,  dust  wed  with  bloody  dust; 
Who  walketh  laden  with  such  weight  of  wrong. 
Why,  let  him,  if  he  will,  uplift  the  song 
That  is  Hell's  triumph.     But  to  come  as  I 
Am  now  come,  laden  with  deliverance  high. 
Home  to  a  land  of  peace  and  laughing  eyes, 
And  mar  all  with  that  fury  of  the  skies 
Which  made  our  Greeks  curse  God — how  should  this 
be? 
Two  enemies  most  ancient.  Fire  and  Sea, 
A  sudden  friendship  swore,  and  proved  their  plight 
By  war  on  us  poor  sailors  through  that  night 
Of  misery,  when  the  horror  of  the  wave 
Towered  over  us,  and  winds  from  Strymon  drave 
Hull  against  hull,  till  good  ships,  by  the  horn 
Of  the  mad  whirlwind  gored  and  overborne, 
One  here,  one  there,  'mid  rain  and  blinding  spray, 
Like  sheep  by  a  devil  herded,  passed  away. 
And  when  the  blessed  Sun  upraised  his  head. 
We  saw  the  Aegean  waste  a-foam  with  dead, 


vv.  660-684.     AGAMEMNON  29 

Dead  men,  dead  ships,  and  spars  disasterful. 

Howbeit  for  us,  our  one  unwounded  hull 

Out  of  that  wrath  was  stolen  or  begged  free 

By  some  good  spirit — sure  no  man  was  he! — 

Who  guided  clear  our  helm ;  and  on  till  now 

Hath  Saviour  Fortune  throned  her  on  the  prow, 

No  surge  to  mar  our  mooring,  and  no  floor 

Of  rock  to  tear  us  when  we  made  for  shore. 

Till,  fled  from  that  sea-hell,  with  the  clear  sun 

Above  us  and  all  trust  in  fortune  gone, 

We  drove  like  sheep  about  our  brain  the  thoughts 

Of  that  lost  army,  broken  and  scourged  with  knouts 

Of  evil.    And,  methinks,  if  there  is  breath 

In  them,  they  talk  of  us  as  gone  to  death — 

How  else? — and  so  say  we  of  them!     For  thee. 

Since  Menelaiis  thy  first  care  must  be. 

If  by  some  word  of  Zeus,  who  wills  not  yet 

To  leave  the  old  house  for  ever  desolate. 

Some  ray  of  sunlight  on  a  far-off  sea 

Lights  him,  yet  green  and  living  ...   we  may  see 

His  ship  some  day  in  the  harbour! — 'Twas  the  word 

Of  truth  ye  asked  me  for,  and  truth  ye  have  heard ! 

[Exit  Herald.     The  Chorus  take  position  for 
the  Third  Stasimon. 

Chorus. 
(Surely    there    was    mystic    meaning    in    the    name 
Helena,  meaning  which  was  fulfilled  when  she 
fled  to  Troy.) 

Who  was  He     who  found  for  thee 
That  name,  truthful  utterly — 
Was  it  One  beyond  our  vision 
Moving  sure  in  pre-decision 


30  AESCHYLUS       w.  685-710. 

Of  man's  doom  his  mystic  lips? — 

Calling  thee,  the  Battle-wed, 

Thee,  the  Strife-encompassed, 
Helen?    Yea,  in  fate's  derision, 

Hell  in  cities.  Hell  in  ships. 
Hell  in  hearts  of  men  they  knew  her, 

When  the  dim  and  delicate  fold 

Of  her  curtains  backward  rolled, 
And  to  sea,  to  sea,  she  threw  her 

In  the  West  Wind's  giant  hold ; 
And  with  spear  and  sword  behind  her 

Came  the  hunters  in  a  flood, 
Down  the  oarblade's  viewless  trail 
Tracking,  till  in  Simois'  vale 
Through  the  leaves  they  crept  to  find  her, 
A  Wrath,  a  seed  of  blood. 

(  The  Trojans  welcomed  her  with  triumph  and  praised 
Alexander,  till  at  last  their  song  changed  and  they 
saw  another  meaning  in  Alexander's  name  also.) 

So  the  Name    to  Ilion  came 
On  God's  thought-fulfilling  flame, 
She  a  vengeance  and  a  token 
Of  the  unfaith  to  bread  broken, 

Of  the  hearth  of  God  betrayed, 
Against  them  whose  voices  swelled 
Glorying  in  the  prize  they  held 
And  the  Spoiler's  vaunt  outspoken 
And  the  song  his  brethren  made 
,    'Mid  the  bridal  torches  burning; 
Till,  behold,  the  ancient  City 
Of  King  Priam  turned,  and  turning 
Took  a  new  song  for  her  learning, 


w.  711-736.     AGAMEMNON  31 

A  song  changed  and  full  of  pity, 
With  the  cry  of  a  lost  nation; 

And  she  changed  the  bridegroom's  name: 
Called  him  Paris  Ghastly-wed ; 
For  her  sons  were  with  the  dead, 
And  her  life  one  lamentation, 

'Mid  blood  and  burning  flame. 

(Like  a  lion's  whelp  reared  as  a  pet  and  turning  after- 
wards to  a  great  beast  of  prey,) 

Lo,  once  there  was  a  herdsman  reared 
In  his  own  house,  so  stories  tell, 

A  lion's  whelp,  a  milk-fed  thing 

And  soft  in  life's  first  opening 

Among  the  sucklings  of  the  herd; 
The  happy  children  loved  him  well. 

And  old  men  smiled,  and  oft,  they  say, 

In  men's  arms,  like  a  babe,  he  lay. 
Bright-eyed,  and  toward  the  hand  that  teased  him 

Eagerly  fawning  for  food  or  play. 

Then  on  a  day  outfl ashed  the  sudden 

Rage  of  the  lion  brood  of  yore; 
He  paid  his  debt  to  them  that  fed 
With  wrack  of  herds  and  carnage  red, 
Yea,  wrought  him  a  great  feast  unbidden, 
Till  all  the  house-ways  ran  with  gore; 
A  sight  the  thralls  fled  weeping  from, 
A  great  red  slayer,  beard  a-foam. 
High-priest  of  some  blood-cursed  altar 
God  had  uplifted  against  that  home. 

{So  was  it  with  Helen  in  Troy.) 


32  AESCHYLUS       w.  737-760. 

And  how  shall  I  call  the  thing  that  came 

At  the  first  hour  to  Ilion  city? 
Call  it  a  dream  of  peace  untold, 
A  secret  joy  in  a  mist  of  gold, 
A  woman's  eye  that  was  soft,  like  flame, 

A  flower  which  ate  a  man's  heart  with  pity. 

But  she  swerved  aside  and  wrought  to   her  kiss  a 

bitter  ending, 
And  a  wrath  was  on  her  harbouring,  a  wrath  upon 
her  friending, 
When  to  Priam  and  his  sons  she  fled  quickly  o'er 
the  deep. 
With  the  god  to  whom  she  sinned  for  her  watcher 
on  the  wind, 
A  death-bride,  whom  brides  long  shall  weep. 

{Men  say  that  Good  Fortune  wakes  the  envy  of  God; 
not  so;  Good  Fortune  may  be  innocent,  and  then 
there  is  no  vengeance.) 

A  grey  word  liveth,  from  the  morn 

Of  old  time  among  mortals  spoken. 
That  man's  Wealth  waxen  full  shall  fall 
Not  childless,  but  get  sons  withal ; 
And  ever  of  great  bliss  is  born 

A  tear  unstanched  and  a  heart  broken. 

But    I     hold    my    thought    alone    and    by    others 

unbeguiled ; 
*Tis  the  deed  that  is  unholy  shall  have  issue,  child  on 

child, 
Sin  on  sin,  like  hrs  begetters;  and  they  shall  be  as 

they  were. 


w.  761-784.     AGAMEMNON  33 

But  the  man  who  walketh  straight,  and  the  house 
thereof,  tho'  Fate 
Exalt  him,  the  children  shall  be  fair. 

{It  is  Sin,  it  is  Pride  and  Ruthlessness,  that  beget  chil- 
dren like  themselves  till  Justice  is  fulfilled  upon 
them.) 

But  Old  Sin  loves,  when  comes  the  hour  again, 

To  bring  forth  New, 
Which  laugheth  lusty  amid  the  tears  of  men; 
Yea,  and  Unruth,  his  comrade,  wherewith  none 
May  plead  nor  strive,  which  dareth  on  and  on, 

Knowing  not  fear  nor  any  holy  thing ; 
Two  fires  of  darkness  in  a  house,  born  true, 

Like  to  their  ancient  spring. 
But  Justice  shineth  in  a  house  low-wrought ' 

With  smoke-stained  wall. 
And  honoureth  him  who  filleth  his  own  lot; 
But  the  unclean  hand  upon  the  golden  stair 
With  eyes  averse  she  flieth,  seeking  where 

Things  innocent  are;  and,  recking  not  the  power 
Of  wealth  by  man  misgloried,  guideth  all 
To  her  own  destined  hour. 

[Here  amid  a  great  procession  enter  Agamem- 
non on  a  Chariot.  Behind  him  on  another 
Chariot  is  Cassandra.  The  Chorus  ap- 
proach and  make  obeisance.  Some  of  Aga- 
memnon's men  have  on  their  shields  a 
White  Horse,  some  a  Lion.  Their  arms  are 
rich  and  partly  barbaric. 

Leader. 
All  hail,  O  King!    Hail,  Atreus'  Son! 
Sacker  of  Cities!    Ilion's  bane! 


34  AESCHYLUS       vv.  785-809. 

With  what  high  word  shall  I  greet  thee  again, 
How  give  thee  worship,  and  neither  outrun 
The  point  of  pleasure,  nor  stint  too  soon  ? 
For  many  will  cling    To  fair  seeming 
The  faster  because  they  have  sinned  erewhile ; 
And  a  man  may  sigh  with  never  a  sting 
Of  grief  in  his  heart,  and  a  man  may  smile 
With  eyes  unlit  and  a  lip  that  strains. 
But  the  wise  Shepherd  knoweth  his  sheep, 

And  his  eyes  pierce  deep 
The  faith  like  water  that  fawns  and  feigns. 


But  I  hide  nothing,  O  King.    That  day 
When  in  quest  of  Helen  our  battle  array 
Hurled  forth,  thy  name  upon  my  heart's  scroll 
Was  deep  in  letters  of  discord  writ; 

And  the  ship  of  thy  soul. 
Ill-helmed  and  blindly  steered  was  it, 
Pursuing  ever,  through  men  that  die, 
One  wild  heart  that  was  fain  to  fly. 

But  on  this  new  day, 
From    the    deep    of    my    thought    and    in    love,    I 

say 
"  Sweet  is  a  grief  well  ended ;  " 
And  in  time's  flow    Thou  wilt  learn  and  know 

The  true  from  the  false, 
Of  them  that  were  left  to  guard  the  walls 
Of  thine  empty  Hall  unfriended. 

[Durinff  the  above  Clytemnestra  has  appeared 
on  the  Palace  steps,  with  a  train  of  Attend- 
ants,  to  receive  her  Husband. 


w.  810-837.     AGAMEMNON  35 

Agamemnon 
To  Argos  and  the  gods  of  Argolis 
All  hail,  who  share  with  me  the  glory  of  this 
Home-coming  and  the  vengeance  I  did  wreak 
On  Priam's  City!    Yea,  though  none  should  speak, 
The  great  gods  heard  our  cause,  and  in  one  mood 
Uprising,  in  the  urn  of  bitter  blood, 
That  men  should  shriek  and  die  and  towers  should 

burn. 
Cast  their  great  vote;  while  over  Mercy's  urn 
Hope  waved  her  empty  hands  and  nothing  fell. 
Even  now  in  smoke  that  City  tells  her  tale; 
The  wrack-wind  liveth,  and  where  Ilion  died 
The  reek  of  the  old  fatness  of  her  pride 
From  hot  and  writhing  ashes  rolls  afar. 

For  which  let  thanks,  wide  as  our  glories  are, 
Be  uplifted ;  seeing  the  Beast  of  Argos  hath 
Round  Ilion's  towers  piled  high  his  fence  of  wrath 
And,  for  one  woman  ravished,  wrecked  by  force 
A  City.    Lo,  the  leap  of  the  wild  Horse 
In  darkness  when  the  Pleiades  were  dead ; 
A  mailed  multitude,  a  Lion  unfed. 
Which  leapt  the  tower  and  lapt  the  blood  of  Kings! 

Lo,  to  the  Gods  I  make  these  thanksgivings. 
But  for  thy  words:  I  marked  them,  and  I  mind 
Their  meaning,  and  my  voice  shall  be  behind 
Thine.    For  not  many  men,  the  proverb  saith, 
Can  love  a  friend  whom  fortune  prospereth 
Unenvying;  and  about  the  envious  brain 
Cold  poison  clings,  and  doubles  all  the  pain 
Life  brings  him.    His  own  woundings  he  must  nurse, 
And  feels  another's  gladness  like  a  curse. 


36  AESCHYLUS       w.  838-859. 

Well  can  I  speak.    I  know  the  mirrored  glass 
Called  friendship,  and  the  shadow  shapes  that  pass 
And  feign  them  a  King's  friends.     I  have  known  but 

one — 
Odysseus,  him  we  trapped  against  his  own 
Will! — who    once    harnessed    bore    his    yoke    right 

well  .    .    . 
Be  he  alive  or  dead  of  whom  I  tell 
The  tale.    And  for  the  rest,  touching  our  state 
And  gods,  we  will  assemble  in  debate 
A  concourse  of  all  Argos,  taking  sure 
Counsel,  that  what  is  well  now  may  endure 
Well,  and  if  aught  needs  healing  medicine,  still 
By  cutting  and  by  fire,  with  all  good  will, 
I  will  essay  to  avert  the  after-wrack 
Such  sickness  breeds. 

Aye,  Heaven  hath  led  me  back; 
And  on  this  hearth  where  still  my  fire  doth  burn 
I  will  go  pay  to  heaven  my  due  return. 
Which  guides  me  here,  which  saved  me  far  away. 

O  Victory,  now  mine  own,  be  mine  alway! 

[Clytemnestra,  at  the  head  of  her  retinue,  steps 
forward.  She  controls  her  suspense  with 
difficulty  but  gradually  gains  courage  as  she 
proceeds. 

Clytemnestra. 
Ye  Elders,  Council  of  the  Argive  name 
Here  present,  I  will  no  more  hold  it  shame 
To  lay  my  passion  bare  before  men's  eyes. 
There  comes  a  time  to  a  woman  when  fear  dies 
For  ever.    None  hath  taught  me.     None  could  tell, 
Save  me,  the  weight  of  years  intolerable 


w.  860-890.     AGAMEMNON  37 

1  lived  while  this  man  lay  at  Ilion. 

That  any  woman  thus  should  sit  alone 

In  a  half-empty  house,  with  no  man  near, 

Makes  her  half-blind  with  dread !    And  in  her  ear 

Alway  some  voice  of  wrath ;  now  messengers 

Of  evil ;  now  not  so ;  then  others  worse, 

Crying  calamity  against  mine  and  me. 

Oh,  had  he  half  the  wounds  that  variously 
Came  rumoured  home,  his  flesh  must  be  a  net, 
All  holes  from  heel  to  crown!    And  if  he  met 
As  many  deaths  as  I  met  tales  thereon, 
Is  he  some  monstrous  thing,  some  Geryon 
Three-souled,  that  will  not  die,  till  o'er  his  head, 
Three  robes  of  earth  be  piled,  to  hold  him  dead  ? 

Aye,  many  a  time  my  heart  broke,  and  the  noose 
Of  death  had  got  me ;  but  they  cut  me  loose. 
It  was  those  voices  alway  in  mine  ear. 

For  that,  too,  young  Orestes  is  not  here 
Beside  me,  as  were  meet,  seeing  he  above 
All  else  doth  hold  the  surety  of  our  love ; 
Let  not  thy  heart  be  troubled.    It  fell  thus: 
Our  loving  spear-friend  took  him,  Strophius 
The  Phocian,  who  forewarned  me  of  annoy 
Two-fronted,  thine  own  peril  under  Troy, 
And  ours  here,  if  the  rebel  multitude 
Should  cast  the  Council  down.    It  is  men's  mood 
Alway,  to  spurn  the  fallen.    So  spake  he. 
And  sure  no  guile  was  in  him. 

But  for  me, 
The  old  stormy  rivers  of  my  grief  are  dead 
Now  at  the  spring ;  not  one  tear  left  unshed. 
Mine  eyes  are  sick  with  vigil,  endlessly 


38  AESCHYLUS       w.  891-913. 

Weeping  the  beacon-piles  that  watched  for  thee 
For  ever  answerless.    And  did  I  dream, 
A  gnat's  thin  whirr  would  start  me,  like  a  scream 
Of  battle,  and  show  me  thee  by  terrors  swept, 
Crowding,  too  many  for  the  time  I  slept. 

From  all  which  stress  delivered  and  free-souled, 
I  greet  my  lord:  O  watchdog  of  the  fold, 
O  forestay  sure  that  fails  not  in  the  squall, 
O  strong-based  pillar  of  a  towering  hall; 
O  single  son  to  a  father  age-ridden; 
O  land  unhoped  for  seen  by  shipwrecked  men ; 
Sunshine  more  beautiful  when  storms  are  fled ; 
Spring  of  quick  water  in  a  desert  dead.  .    .    . 
How  sweet  to  be  set  free  from  any  chain ! 

These  be  my  words  to  greet  him  home  again.   , 
No  god  shall  grudge  them.    Surely  I  and  thou 
Have  suffered  in  time  past  enough !    And  now 
Dismount,  O  head  with  love  and  glory  crowned, 
From  this  high  car ;  yet  plant  not  on  bare  ground 
Thy  foot,  great  King,  the  foot  that  trampled  Troy. 

Ho,  bondmaids,  up !    Forget  not  your  employ, 
A  floor  of  crimson  broideries  to  spread 
For  the  King's  path.    Let  all  the  ground  be  red 
Where  those  feet  pass;  and  Justice,  dark  of  yore, 
Home  light  him  to  the  hearth  he  looks  not  fori 

What  followeth  next,  our  sleepless  care  shall  see 
Ordered  as  God's  good  pleasure  may  decree. 

[The  attendants  spread  tapestries  of  crimson  and 
gold  from  the  Chariot  to  the  Door  of  the 
Palace.    Agamemnon  does  not  move. 


vv.  9H-93+      AGAMEMNON  39 

Agamemnon. 
Daughter  of  Leda,  watcher  of  my  fold, 
In  sooth  thy  welcome,  grave  and  amply  told, 
Fitteth  mine  absent  years.    Though  it  had  been 
Seemlier,  methinks,  some  other,  not  my  Queen, 
Had  spoke  these  honours.    For  the  rest,  I  say, 
Seek  not  to  make  me  soft  in  woman's  way ; 
Cry  not  thy  praise  to  me  wide-mouthed,  nor  fling 
Thy  body  down,  as  to  some  barbarous  king. 
Nor  yet  with  broidered  hangings  strew  my  path, 
To  awake  the  unseen  ire.    'Tis  God  that  hath 
Such  worship ;  and  for  mortal  man  to  press 
Rude  feet  upon  this  broidered  loveliness   .    .    . 
I  vow  there  is  danger  in  it.     Let  my  road 
Be  honoured,  surely ;  but  as  man,  not  god. 
Rugs  for  the  feet  and  yonder  broidered  pall   .    .    . 
The  names  ring  diverse!   .    .    .  Aye,  and  not  to  fall 
Suddenly  blind  is  of  all  gifts  the  best 
God  giveth,  for  I  reckon  no  man  blest 
Ere  to  the  utmost  goal  his  race  be  run. 

So  be  it ;  and  if,  as  this  day  I  have  done, 
I  shall  do  always,  then  I  fear  no  ill. 

Clytemnestra. 
Tell  me  but  this,  nowise  against  thy  will  .    .    . 

Agamemnon. 
My  will,  be  sure,  shall  falter  not  nor  fade. 

Clytemnestra. 
Was  this  a  vow  in  some  great  peril  made? 

Agamemnon. 
Enough!     I  have  spoke  my  purpose,  fixed  and  plain. 


40  AESCHYLUS       vv.  935-945- 

Clytemnestra. 
Were  Priam  the  conqueror  .    .    .   Think,  would  he 
refrain  ? 

Agamemnon. 
Oh,  stores  of  broideries  would  be  trampled  then! 

Clytemnestra. 
Lord,  care  not  for  the  cavillings  of  men ! 

Agamemnon. 
The  murmur  of  a  people  hath  strange  weight. 

Clytemnestra. 
Who  feareth  envy,  feareth  to  be  great. 

Agamemnon. 
'Tis  graceless  when  a  woman  strives  to  lead. 

Clytemnestra. 
When  a  great  conqueror  yields,  'tis  grace  indeed. 

Agamemnon. 
So  in  this  war  thou  must  my  conqueror  be? 

Clytemnestra. 
Yield!    With  good  will  to  yield  is  victory! 

Agamemnon. 
Well,  if  I  needs  must  .    .    .   Be  it  as  thou  hast  said! 
Quick!     Loose  me  these  bound  slaves  on  which  I 
tread, 


w.  946-964.     AGAMEMNON  41 

And  while  I  walk  yon  wonders  of  the  sea 
God  grant  no  eye  of  wrath  be  cast  on  me 
From  far! 

[Tke  Attendants  untie  his  shoes. 

For  even  now  it  likes  me  not 
To  waste  mine  house,  thus  marring  underfoot 
The  pride  thereof,  and  wondrous  broideries 
Bought  in  far  seas  with  silver.    But  of  these 
Enough. — And  mark,  I  charge  thee,  this  princess 
Of  Ilion;  tend  her  with  all  gentleness. 
God's  eye  doth  see,  and  loveth  from  afar, 
The  merciful  conqueror.    For  no  slave  of  war 
Is  slave  by  his  own  will.    She  is  the  prize 
And  chosen  flower  of  Dion's  treasuries, 
Set  by  the  soldiers'  gift  to  follow  me. 

Now  therefore,  seeing  I  am  constrained  by  thee 
And  do  thy  will,  I  walk  in  conqueror's  guise 
Beneath  my  Gate,  trampling  sea-crimson  dyes. 

[As  he  dismounts  and  sets  foot  on  the  Tapestries 
Clytemnestra's  women  utter  again  their 
Cry  of  Triumph.  The  people  bow  or  kneel 
as  he  passes. 

Clytemnestra. 
There  is  the  sea — its  caverns  who  shall  drain? 
Breeding  of  many  a  purple-fish  the  stain 
Surpassing  silver,  ever  fresh  renewed, 
For  robes  of  kings.    And  we,  by  right  indued, 
Possess  our  fill  thereof.    Thy  house,  O  King, 
Knoweth  no  stint,  nor  lack  of  anything. 

What  trampling  of  rich  raiment,  had  the  cry 
So  sounded  in  the  domes  of  prophesy, 


42  AESCHYLUS       w.  965-985. 

Would  I  have  vowed  these  years,  as  price  to  pay 
For  this  dear  life  in  peril  far  away! 
Where  the  root  is,  the  leafage  cometh  soon 
To  clothe  an  house,  and  spread  its  leafy  boon 
Against  the  burning  star;  and,  thou  being  come, 
Thou,  on  the  midmost  hearthstone  of  thy  home. 
Oh,  warmth  in  winter  leapeth  to  thy  sign. 
And  when  God's  summer  melteth  into  wine 
The  green  grape,  on  that  house  shall  coolness  fall 
Where  the  true  man,  the  master,  walks  his  hall. 

Zeus,  Zeus!    True  Master,  let  my  prayers  be  true! 
And,  oh,  forget  not  that  thou  art  willed  to  do! 

[She  follows  Agamemnon  into  the  Palace.  The 
retinues  of  both  King  and  Queen  go  in  after 
them.    Cassandra  remains. 

Chorus. 

What  is  this  that  evermore,       [Strophe  i. 

A  cold  terror  at  the  door 
Of  this  bosom  presage-haunted, 

Pale  as  death     hovereth? 
While  a  song  unhired,  unwanted, 
By  some  inward  prophet  chanted, 

Speaks  the  secret  at  its  core  ; 

And  to  cast  it  from  my  blood 

Like  a  dream  not  understood 

No  sweet-spoken  Courage  now 

Sitteth  at  my  heart's  dear  prow. 

Yet  I  know  that  manifold 
Days,  like  sand,  have  waxen  old 


w.  986-1009.    AGAMEMNON  43 

Since  the  day  those  shoreward-thrown 
Cables  flapped  and  line  on  line 

Standing  forth  for  Ilion 

The  long  galleys  took  the  brine. 

[Antistrophe  I. 
And  in  harbour — mine  own  eye 
Hath  beheld — again  they  Ve; 
Yet  that  lyreless  music  hid  en 
Whispers  still  words  of  ill, 
'Tis  the  Soul  of  me  unbidden, 
Like  some  Fury  sorrow-ridden. 
Weeping  over  things  that  die. 
Neither  waketh  in  my  sense 
Ever  Hope's  dear  confidence; 
For  this  flesh  that  groans  within. 
And  these  bones  that  know  of  Sin, 
This  tossed  heart  upon  the  spate 
Of  a  whirpool  that  is  Fate, 
Surely  these  lie  not.    Yet  deep 

Beneath  hope  my  prayer  doth  run. 
All  will  die  like  dreams,  and  creep 
To  the  unthought  of  and  undone. 

[Strophe  2. 
— Surely  of  great  Weal  at  the  end  of  all 

Comes  not  Content;  so  near  doth  Fever  crawl, 
Close  neighbour,  pressing  hard  the  narrow  wall. 

— ^Woe  to  him  who  fears  not  fate ! 
'Tis  the  ship  that  forward  straight 
Sweepeth,  strikes  the  reef  below; 
JHe  who  fears  and  lightens  weight, 


44  AESCHYLUS    w.  1010-1032. 

Casting  forth,  in  measured  throw, 
From  the  wealth  his  hand  hath  got  .    .    . 
His  whole  ship  shall  founder  not, 
With  abundance  overfraught. 
Nor  deep  seas  above  him  flow. 
— Lo,  when  famine  stalketh  near, 
One  good  gift  of  Zeus  again 
From  th''  furrows  of  one  year 
Endeth  «./uck  the  starving  pain; 

[Antistrophe  2. 
— But  once  the  blood  of  death  is  fallen,  black 
And  oozing  at  a  slain  man's  feet,  alack ! 
By  spell  or  singing  who  shall  charm  it  back  ? 

— One  there  was  of  old  who  showed 
Man  the  path  from  death  to  day; 
But  Zeus,  lifting  up  his  rod. 

Spared  not,  when  he  charged  him  stay. 

— Save  that  every  doom  of  God 
Hath  by  other  dooms  its  way 
Crossed,  that  none  may  rule  alone. 
In  one  speech-outstrippirig  groan 
Forth  had  all  this  passion  flown. 

Which  now  murmuring  hides  away, 
Full  of  pain,  and  hoping  not 
Ever  one  clear  thread  to  unknot 
From  the  tangle  of  my  soul, 
From  a  heart  of  burning  coal. 

[Suddenly  Clytemnestra  appears 
Standing  in  the  Doorway, 


w.  1033-1052.    AGAMEMNON  45 

Clytemnestra. 
Thou  likewise,  come  within !    I  speak  thy  name, 
Cassandra; 

[Cassandra  trembles,  but  continues  to  stare  in 
front  of  her,  as  though  not  hearing  Clytem- 
nestra. 

seeing  the  Gods — why  chafe  at  them? — 
Have  placed  thee  here,  to  share  within  these  walls 
Our  lustral  waters,  'mid  a  crowd  of  thralls 
Who  stand  obedient  round  the  altar-stone 
Of  our  Possession.    Therefore  come  thou  down, 
And  be  not  over-proud.    The  tale  is  told 
How  once  Alcmena's  son  himself,  being  sold. 
Was  patient,  though  he  liked  not  the  slaves'  mess. 

And  more,  if  Fate  must  bring  thee  to  this  stress, 
Praise  God  thou  art  come  to  a  House  of  high  report 
And  wealth  from  long  ago.    The  baser  sort. 
Who  have  reaped  some  sudden  harvest  unforeseen, 
Are  ever  cruel  to  their  slaves,  and  mean 
In  the  measure.    We  shall  give  whate'er  is  due. 

[Cassandra  is  silent. 

Leader. 
To  thee  she  speaks,  and  waits  .    .    .  clear  words  and 

true! 
Oh,  doom  is  all  around  thee  like  a  net; 
Yield,  if  thou  canst.  .    .    .  Belike  thou  canst  not  yet. 

Clytemnestra, 
Methinks,  unless  this  wandering  maid  is  one 
Voiced  like  a  swallow-bird,  with  tongue  unknown 
And  barbarous,  she  can  read  my  plain  intent. 
I  use  but  words,  and  ask  for  her  consent. 


46  AESCHYLUS    w.  1053-1071. 

Leader. 
Ah,  come!    *Tis  best,  as  the  world  lies  to-day. 
Leave  this  high-throned  chariot,  and  obey! 

Clytemnestra. 
How  long  must  I  stand  dallying  at  the  Gate? 
Even  now  the  beasts  to  Hestia  consecrate 
Wait  by  the  midmost  fire,  since  there  is  wrought 
This  high  fulfilment  for  which  no  man  thought. 
Wherefore,  if  'tis  thy  pleasure  to  obey 
Aught  of  my  will,  prithee,  no  more  delay! 
If,  dear  to  sense,  thou  wilt  not  understand  .    .    . 
Thou  show  her,  not  with  speech  but  with  brute  hand ! 

[To  the  Leader  of  the  Chorus. 

Leader. 
The  strange  maid  needs  a  rare  interpreter. 
She  is  trembling  like  a  wild  beast  in  a  snare. 

Clytemnestra. 
'Fore  Grod,  she  is  mad,  and  heareth  but  her  own 
Folly !    A  slave,  her  city  all  o'erthrown, 
She  needs  must  chafe  her  bridle,  till  this  fret 
Be  foamed  away  in  blood  and  bitter  sweat. 
I  waste  no  more  speech,  thus  to  be  defied. 

[She  goes  back  inside  the  Palace. 

Leader. 
I  pity  thee  so  sore,  no  wrath  nor  pride 
Is  in  me. — Come,  dismount !    Bend  to  the  stroke 
Fate  lays  on  thee,  and  learn  to  feel  thy  yoke. 

[He  lays  his  hand  softly  on  Cassandra'j  shoulder. 


w.  1072-1090.    AGAMEMNON  47 

Cassandra  {moaning  to  herself). 
Otototoi  .   .   .  Dreams.    Dreams. 
Apollo.     O  Apollo! 

Second  Elder. 
Why  sob'st  thou  for  Apollo?    It  is  writ, 
He  loves  not  grief  nor  lendeth  ear  to  it. 

Cassandra. 
Otototoi   .    .    .   Dreams.     Dreams. 
Apollo.    O  Apollo! 

Leader. 
Still  to  that  god  she  makes  her  sobbing  cry 
Who  hath  no  place  where  men  are  sad,  or  die. 

Cassandra. 
Apollo,  Apollo!    Light  of  the  Ways  of  Men! 

Mine  enemy! 
Hast  lighted  me  to  darkness  yet  again? 

Second  Elder. 
How?    Will  she  prophesy  about  her  own 
Sorrows?    That  power  abides  when  all  is  gone! 

Cassandra. 
Apollo,  Apollo!    Light  of  all  that  is! 

Mine  enemy! 
Where  hast  thou  led  me  ?  .  .  .Ha!    What  house 
is  this? 

Leader. 
The  Atreidae's  castle.    If  thou  knowest  not,  I 
Am  here  to  help  thee,  and  help  faithfully. 


48  AESCHYLUS    w.  1091-1106. 

Cassandra. 
{whispering). 
Nay,  nay.    This  is  the  house  that  God  hateth. 
There    be    many    things    that    know    its    secret; 
sore 
And  evil  things;  murders  and  strangling  death. 
*Tis  here  they  slaughter  men  ...  A  splashing 
floor. 

• 

Second  Elder. 
Keen-sensed  the  strange  maid  seemeth,  like  a  hound 
For  blood. — And  what  she  seeks  can  sure  be  found ! 

Cassandra. 
The  witnesses  ...   I  follow  where  they  lead. 

The  crying  ...  of  little  children  .   .    .  near  the 
gate : 
Crying  for  wounds  that  bleed: 
And  the  smell  of  the  baked  meats  their  father  ate. 

Second  Elder. 
{recognizing  her  vision,  and  repelled). 
Word  of  thy  mystic  power  had  reached  our  ear 
Long  since.    Howbeit  we  need  no  prophets  here. 

Cassandra. 
Ah,  ah!    What  would  they?    A  new  dreadful  thing. 

A  great  great  sin  plots  in  the  house  this  day; 
Too  strong  for  the  faithful,  beyond  medicining  .    .    . 
And  help  stands  far  away. 

Leader. 
This  warning  I  can  read  not,  though  I  knew 
That  other  tale.    It  rings  the  city  through. 


w.  1107-1129.    AGAMEMNON  49 

Cassandra. 

0  Woman,  thou!    The  lord  who  lay  with  thee! 
Wilt  lave  with  water,  and  then  .    .    .How  speak 

the  end? 
It  comes  so  quick.    A  hand  .   .   .  another  hand  .  .   . 
That  reach,  reach  gropingly  .    .    , 

Leader. 

1  see  not  yet.    These  riddles,  pierced  with  blind 
Gleams  of  foreboding  but  bemuse  my  mind. 

Cassandra. 
Ah,  ah!    What  is  it?    There;  it  is  coming  clear. 

A  net  .    .    .  some  net  of  Hell. 
Nay,  she  that  lies  with  him  ...  is  she  the  snare? 

And  half  of  his  blood  upon  it.    It  holds  well  .  .  . 
O  Crowd  of  ravening  Voices,  be  glad,  yea,  shout 
And  cry  for  the  stoning,  cry  for  the  casting  out! 

Second  Elder. 
What  Fury  Voices  call'st  thou  to  be  hot 
Against  this  castle  ?    Such  words  like  me  not. 

And  deep  within  my  breast  I  felt  that  sick 
And  saffron  drop,  which  creepeth  to  the  heart 
To  die  as  the  last  rays  of  life  depart. 
Misfortune  comes  so  quick. 

Cassandra. 
Ah,  look!     Look!     Keep   his  mate  from  the  Wild 
Bull! 
A  tangle  of  raiment,  see; 
A  black  horn,  and  a  blow,  and  he  falleth,  full 
In  the  marble  amid  the  water.     I  counsel  ye. 
I  speak  plain.  .  .  .  Blood  in  the  bath  and  treachery ! 


50  AESCHYLUS    vv.  1130-1149. 

Leader. 
No  great  interpreter  of  oracles 
Am  I ;  but  this,  I  think,  some  mischief  spells. 


What  spring  of  good  hath  seercraft  ever  made 

Up  from  the  dark  to  flow? 
'Tis  but  a  weaving  of  words,  a  craft  of  woe, 

To  make  mankind  afraid. 

Cassandra. 
Poor  woman !    Poor  dead  woman !  .    .    .  Yea,  it  is  I, 
Poured  out  like  water  among  them.     Weep   for 

me.   .    .    . 
Ah!     What   is   this   place?     Why   must   I    come 
with  thee  .    .    . 
To  die,  only  to  die? 

Leader. 
Thou  art  borne  on  the  breath  of  God,  thou  spirit 
wild, 
For  thine  own  weird  to  wail. 
Like  to  that  winged  voice,  that  heart  so  sone 
Which,  crying  alway,  hungereth  to  cry  more, 
"  Itylus,  Itylus,"  till  it  sing  her  child 
Back  to  the  nightingale. 

Cassandra. 
Oh,  happy  Singing  Bird,  so  sweet,  so  clear! 

Soft  wings  for  her  God  made. 
And  an  easy  passing,  without  pain  or  tear  .    .   . 
For  me  'twill  be  torn  flesh  and  rending  blade. 


vv.  1150-1172.    AGAMEMNON  51 

Second  Elder. 
Whence  is  it  sprung,  whence  wafted  on  God's  breath, 

This  anguish  reasonless? 
This  throbbing  of  terror  shaped  to  melody, 
Moaning  of  evil  blent  with  music  high? 
Who  hath  marked  out  for  thee  that  mystic  path 

Through  thy  woe's  wilderness? 

Cassandra. 
Alas  for  the  kiss,  the  kiss  of  Paris,  his  people's  bane! 
Alas   for   Scamander  Water,   the   water  my   fathers 

drank! 
Long,  long  ago,  I  played  about  thy  bank, 
And  was  cherished  and  grew  strong; 
Now  by  a  River  of  Wailing,  by  shores  of  Pain, 
Soon  shall  I  make  my  song. 

Leader. 
How  sayst  thou?    All  too  clear. 
This  ill  word  thou  hast  laid  upon  thy  mouth! 

A  babe  could  read  thee  plain. 
It  stabs  within  me  like  a  serpent's  tooth, 
The  bitter  thrilling  music  of  her  pain : 
I  marvel  as  I  hear. 

Cassandra. 
Alas  for  the  toil,  the  toil  of  a  City,  worn  unto  death! 
Alas  for  my  father's  worship  before  the  citadel. 
The  flocks  that  bled  and  the  tumult  of  their  breath ! 

But  no  help  from  them  came 
To  save  Troy  Towers  from  falling  as  they  fell!  .   .   . 
And  I  on  the  earth  shall  writhe,  my  heart  aflame, 


52  AESCHYLUS    w.  1173-1193. 

Second  Elder. 
Dark  upon  dark,  new  ominous  words  of  ill ! 

Sure  there  hath  swept  on  thee  some  Evil  Thing, 

Crushing,  which  makes  thee  bleed 
And  in  the  torment  of  thy  vision  sing 
These  plaining  death-fraught  oracles  .    .    .  Yet  still, 
still, 
Their  end  I  cannot  read ! 

Cassandra. 

[By  an  effort  she  regains  mastery  of  herself,  and 
speaks  directly  to  the  Leader. 

'Fore  God,  mine  oracle  shall  no  more  hide 
With  veils  his  visage,  like  a  new-wed  bride! 
A  shining  wind  out  of  this  dark  shall  blow, 
Piercing  the  dawn,  growing  as  great  waves  grow. 
To  burst  in  the  heart  of  sunrise   .    .    .   stronger  far 
Than  this  poor  pain  of  mine.    I  will  not  mar 
With  mists  my  wisdom. 

Be  near  me  as  I  go, 
Tracking  the  evil  things  of  long  ago. 
And  bear  me  witness.    For  this  roof,  there  clings . 
Music  about  it,  like  a  choir  which  sings 
One-voiced,  but  not  well-sounding,  for  not  good 
The    words    are.       Drunken,     drunken,     and     with 

blood, 
To  make  them  dare  the  more,  a  revelling  rout 
Is  in  the  rooms,  which  no  man  shall  cast  out, 
Of  sister  Furies.    And  they  weave  to  song, 
Haunting  the  House,  its  first  blind  deed  of  wrong, 
Spurning  in  turn  that  King's  bed  desecrate. 
Defiled,  which  paid  a  brother's  sin  with  hate.   .    .    , 


w.  1 194-1209.    AGAMEMNON  53 

Hath  it  missed  or  struck,  mine  arrow?     Am  I  a 
poor 
Dreamer,  that  begs  and  babbles  at  the  door? 
Give  first  thine  oath  in  witness,  that  I  know 
Of  this  great  dome  the  sins  wrought  long  ago. 

Elder. 
And  how  should  oath  of  mine,  though  bravely  sworn, 
Appease  thee?    Yet  I  marvel  that  one  born 
Far  over  seas,  of  alien  speech,  should  fall 
So  apt,  as  though  she  had  lived  here  and  seen  all. 

Cassandra. 
The  Seer  Apollo  made  me  too  to  see. 

Elder  {in  a  low  voice). 
Was  the  God's  heart  pierced  with  desire  for  thee? 

Cassandra. 
Time  was,  I  held  it  shame  hereof  to  speak. 

Elder. 
Ah,  shame  is  for  the  mighty,  not  the  weak. 

Cassandra. 
We  wrestled,  and  his  breath  to  me  was  sweet. 

Elder. 
Ye  came  to  the  getting  of  children,  as  is  meet? 

Cassandra. 
I  swore  to  Loxias,  and  I  swore  a  lie. 

Elder. 
Already  thine  the  gift  of  prophecy? 


54  AESCHYLUS    w.  1210-1229. 

Cassandra. 
Already  I  showed  my  people  all  their  path. 


Elder. 
And  Loxias  did  not  smite  thee  in  his  wrath? 

Cassandra. 
After  that  sin   .    .    .   no  man  believed  me  more. 

Elder. 
Nay,  then,  to  us  thy  wisdom  seemeth  sure. 

Cassandra. 
Oh,  oh!    Agony,  agony! 
Again  the  awful  pains  of  prophecy 
Are  on  me,  maddening  as  they  fall.   .    .    . 
Ye  see  them  there  .    .    .  beating  against  the  wall? 
So  young  .  .   .  like  shapes  that  gather  in  a  dream  .   .  . 
Slain  by  a  hand  they  loved.    Children  they  seem, 
Murdered  .    .    .  and  in  their  hands  they  bear  baked 

meat : 
I  think  it  is  themselves.    Yea,  flesh ;  I  see  it ; 
And  inward  parts.   .    .    .   Oh,  what  a  horrible  load 
To  carry!    And  their  father  drank  their  blood. 

From  these,  I  warn  ye,  vengeance  broodeth  still, 
A  lion's  rage,  which  goes  not  forth  to  kill 
But  lurketh  in  his  lair,  watching  the  high 
Hall  of  my  war-gone  master  .    .    .   Master?    Aye; 
Mine,  mine!    The  yoke  is  nailed  about  my  neck.  .  .  . 
Oh,  lord  of  ships  and  trampler  on  the  wreck 
Of  Ilion,  knows  he  not  this  she-wolf's  tongue. 
Which  licks  and  fawns,  and  laughs  with  ear  up-sprung, 


w.  1230-1250.    AGAMEMNON  55 

To  bite  in  the  end  like  a  secret  death? — And  can 
The  woman?    Slay  a  strong  and  armed  man?  .    .    , 

What  fanged  reptile  like  to  her  doth  creep? 
Some  serpent  amphisbene,  some  Skylla,  deep 
Housed  in  the  rock,  where  sailors  shriek  and  die, 
Mother  of  Hell  blood-raging,  which  doth  cry 
On  her  own  flesh  war,  war  without  alloy   .    .    . 
God!    And  she  shouted  in  his  face  her  joy, 
Like  men  in  battle  when  the  foe  doth  break. 
And  feigns  thanksgiving  for  his  safety's  sake! 

What  if  no  man  believe  me  ?    'Tis  all  one. 
The  thing  which  must  be  shall  be ;  aye,  and  soon 
Thou  too  shalt  sorrow  for  these  things,  and  here 
Standing  confess  me  all  too  true  a  seer. 

Leader. 
The  Thyestean  feast  of  children  slain 
I  understood,  and  tremble.    Aye,  my  brain 
Reels  at  these  visions,  beyond  guesswork  true. 
But  after,  though  I  heard,  I  had  lost  the  clue. 

Cassandra. 
Man,  thou  shalt  look  on  Agamemnon  dead. 

Leader. 
Peace,  Mouth  of  Evil !    Be  those  words  unsaid ! 

Cassandra. 
No  god  of  peace  hath  watch  upon  that  hour. 

Leader. 
If  it  must  come.    Forefend  it.  Heavenly  Power! 

Cassandra. 
They  do  not  think  of  prayer;  they  think  of  death. 


56  AESCHYLUS    w.  1251-1267. 

Leader. 
They?    Say,  what  man  this  foul  deed  compasseth? 

Cassandra. 
Alas,  thou  art  indeed  fallen  far  astray! 

Leader. 

Hqw  could  such  deed  be  done  ?    I  see  no  way. 
< 

Cassandra. 

Yet  know  I  not  the  Greek  tongue  all  too  well? 

Leader. 
Greek  are  the  Delphic  dooms,  but  hard  to  spell. 

Cassandra. 
Ah!    Ah!    There! 
What  a  strange  fire !    It  moves  .    .    .   It  comes  at  me. 

0  Wolf  Apollo,  mercy!    O  agony!   .    .    . 
Why  lies  she  with  a  wolf,  this  lioness  lone, 
Two-handed,  when  the  royal  lion  is  gone? 
God,  she  will  kill  me !    Like  to  them  that  brew 
Poison,  I  see  her  mingle  for  me  too 

A  separate  vial  in  her  wrath,  and  swear. 
Whetting  her  blade  for  him,  that  I  must  share 
His  death   .    .    .  because,  because  he  hath  dragged  me 
here! 
Oh,  why  these  mockers  at  my  throat?    This  gear 
Of  wreathed  bands,  this  staflE  of  prophecy? 

1  mean  to  kill  you  first,  before  I  die. 
Begone! 

[She  tears  off  her  prophetic  habiliments ;  and  pres- 
ently throws  them  on  the  ground,  and  stamps 
on  them. 


vv.  1268-1294.    AGAMEMNON  57 

Down  to  perdition!   .    .    .   Lie  ye  so? 
So  I  requite  you!     Now  make  rich  in  woe 
Some  other  Bird  of  Evil,  me  no  more! 

[Cominff  to  herself. 
Ah,  see!    It  is  Apollo's  self,  hath  tore 
His  crown  from  me !    Who  watched  me  long  ago 
In  this  same  prophet's  robe,  by  friend,  by  foe, 
All  with  one  voice,  all  blinded,  mocked  to  scorn: 
"  A  thing  of  dreams,"  "  a  beggar-maid  outworn," 
Poor,  starving  and  reviled,  I  endured  all; 
And  now  the  Seer,  who  called  me  till  my  call 
Was  perfect,  leads  me  to  this  last  dismay.   .    .    . 
'Tis  not  the  altar-stone  where  men  did  slay 
My  father;  'tis  a  block,  a  block  with  gore 
Yet  hot,  that  waits  me,  of  one  slain  before. 

Yet  not  of  God  unheeded  shall  we  lie. 
There  cometh  after,  one  who  lifteth  high 
The  downf alien;  a  branch  where  blossometh 
A  sire's  avenging  and  a  mother's  death. 
Exiled  and  wandering,  from  this  land  outcast, 
One  day  He  shall  return,  and  set  the  last 
Crown  on  these  sins  that  have  his  house  downtrod. 
For,  lo,  there  is  a  great  oath  sworn  of  God, 
His  father's  upturned  face  shall  guide  him  home. 

Why  should  I  grieve?    Why  pity  these  men's  doom? 
I  who  have  seen  the  City  of  Ilion 
Pass  as  she  passed ;  and  they  who  cast  her  down 
Have  thus  their  end,  as  God  gives  judgement  sure.  .  .  . 

I  go  to  drink  my  cup.    I  will  endure 
To  die.    O  Gates,  Death-Gates,  all  hail  to  you! 
Only,  pray  God  the  blow  be  stricken  true ! 
Pray  God,  unagonized,  with  blood  that  flows 
Quick  unto  friendly  death,  these  eyes  may  close! 


58  AESCHYLUS    w.  1295-1307. 

Leadbr. 
Q  full  of  sorrows,  full  of  wisdom  great, 
Woman,  thy  speech  is  a  long  anguish ;  yet, 
Knowing  thy  doom,  why  walkst  thou  with  clear  eyes, 
Like  some  god-blinded  beast,  to  sacrifice? 

Cassandra. 
There  is  no  escape,  friends ;  only  vain  delay. 

Leader. 
Is  not  the  later  still  the  sweeter  day? 

Cassandra. 
The  day  is  come.    Small  profit  now  to  fly. 

Leader. 
Through  all  thy  griefs.  Woman,  thy  heart  is  high. 

Cassandra. 
Alas!    None  that  is  happy  hears  that  praise. 

Leader. 
Are  not  the  brave  dead  blest  in  after  days? 

Cassandra. 
O  Father!    O  my  brethren  brave,  I  come! 

[She  moves  towards  the  House,  but  recoils  shud- 
dering. 

Leader. 
What  frights  thee?    What  is  that  thou  startest  from? 

Cassandra. 
Ah,  faugh!    Faugh! 


vv.  1308-1326.    AGAMEMNON  59 

Leader. 
What  turns  thee  in  that  blind 
Horror?    Unless  some  loathing  of  the  mind   .    .    . 

Cassandra. 
Death  drifting  from  the  doors,  and  blood  like  rain! 

Leader. 
'Tis  but  the  dumb  beasts  at  the  altar  slain. 

Cassandra. 
And  vapours  from  a  charnel-house   .    .    .   See  there! 

Leader. 
'Tis  Tyrian  incense  clouding  in  the  air. 

Cassandra  (recovering  herself  again). 

So  be  it! — I  will  go,  in  yonder  room 
To  weep  mine  own  and  Agamemnon's  doom. 
May  death  be  all!    Strangers,  I  am  no  bird 
That  pipeth  trembling  at  a  thicket  stirred 
By  the  empty  wind.    Bear  witness  on  that  day 
When  woman  for  this  woman's  life  shall  pay, 
And  man  for  man  ill-mated  low  shall  lie: 
I  ask  this  boon,  as  being  about  to  die. 

Leader. 
Alas,  I  pity  thee  thy  mystic  fate! 

Cassandra. 
One  word,  one  dirge-song  would  I  utter  yet 
O'er  mine  own  corpse.    To  this  last  shining  Sun 
I  pray  that,  when  the  Avenger's  work  is  done, 
His  enemies  may  remember  this  thing  too, 
This  little  thing,  the  woman  slave  they  slew! 


6o  AESCHYLUS    w.  1327-1345. 

O  world  of  men,  farewell !    A  painted  show 
Is  all  thy  glory ;  and  when  life  is  low 
The  touch  of  a  wet  sponge  out-blotteth  all. 
Oh,  sadder  this  than  any  proud  man's  fall! 

[She  goes  into  the  House. 

Chorus. 
Great  Fortune  is  an  hungry  thing, 

And  filleth  no  heart  anywhere, 
Though  men  with  fingers  menacing 

Point  at  the  great  house,  none  will  dare, 
When  Fortune  knocks,  to  bar  the  door 
Proclaiming:  "Come  thou  here  no  more!" 
Lo,  to  this  man  the  Gods  have  given 

Great  Ilion  in  the  dust  to  tread 
And  home  return,  emblazed  of  heaven; 
If  it  is  writ,  he  too  shall  go 
Through  blood  for  blood  spilt  long  ago; 
If  he  too,  dying  for  the  dead. 

Should  crown  the  deaths  of  alien  years, 

What  mortal  afar  off,  who  hears, 
Shall  boast  him  Fortune's  Child,  and  led 

Above  the  eternal  tide  of  tears? 

[A  sudden  Cry  from  within. 

Voice. 
Ho!    Treason  in  the  house!    I  am  wounded:  slain. 

Leader. 
Hush !    In  the  castle !    'Twas  a  cry 
Of  some  man  wounded  mortally. 

Voice. 
Ah  God,  another !    I  am  stricken  again. 


vv.  1346-1359.    AGAMEMNON  61 

Leader. 
I  think  the  deed  is  done.    It  was  the  King 
Who  groaned.   .    .    .   Stand  close,  and  think  if  any- 
thing .    .    . 

[The  Old  Men  gather  together  under  the  shock, 
and  debate  confusedly. 

Elder  B. 
I  give  you  straight  my  judgement.    Summon  all 
The  citizens  to  rescue.    Sound  a  call ! 

Elder  C. 
No,  no!     Burst  in  at  once  without  a  word! 
In,  and  convict  them  by  their  dripping  sword  1 

Elder  D. 
Yes ;  that  or  something  like  it.    Quick,  I  say, 
Be  doing !    'Tis  a  time  for  no  delay. 

Elder  E. 
We  have  time  to  think.     This  opening   .    .    .   They 

have  planned 
Some  scheme  to  make  enslavement  of  the  land. 

Elder  F. 
Yes,  while  we  linger  here!     They  take  no  thought 
Of  lingering,  and  their  sword-arm  sleepeth  not! 

Elder  G. 
I  have  no  counsel.    I  can  speak  not.    Oh, 
Let  him  give  counsel  who  can  strike  a  blow! 


6g  AESCHYLUS    w.  1360-1371. 

Elder  H. 
I  say  as  this  man  says.     I  have  no  trust 
In  words  to  raise  a  dead  man  from  the  dust. 


Elder  I. 
How    mean    you?      Drag   out   our   poor   lives,    and 

stand 
Cowering  to  these  defilers  of  the  land  ? 

Elder  J. 
Nay,  'tis  too  much !    Better  to  strive  and  die ! 
Death  is  an  easier  doom  than  slavery. 

Elder  K. 
We  heard  a  sound  of  groaning,  nothing  plain, 
How  know  we — are  we  seers  ? — that  one  is  slain  ? 

Elder  L. 
Oh,  let  us  find  the  truth  out,  ere  we  grow 
Thus  passionate !    To  surmise  is  not  to  know. 

Leader. 
Break  in,  then!     'Tis  the  counsel  ye  all  bring, 
And  learn  for  sure,  how  is  it  with  the  King. 

[They  cluster  up  towards  the  Palace  Door,  as 
though  to  force  an  entrance,  when  the  great 
Door  swings  open,  revealing  Clytemnestra, 
who  stands,  axe  in  hand,  over  the  dead  bodies 
of  Agamemnon  and  Cassandra.  The  body 
of  Agamemnon  is  wrapped  in  a  rich  crim- 
son web.  There  is  blood  on  Clvtemnes- 
tra's  brow,  and  she  speaks  in  wild  triumph. 


w.  1372-1398.    AGAMEMNON  63 

Clytemnestra. 
Oh,  lies  enough  and  more  have  I  this  day 
Spoken,  which  now  I  shame  not  to  unsay. 
How  should  a  woman  work,  to  the  utter  end, 
Hate  on  a  damned  hater,  feigned  a  friend ; 
How  pile  perdition  round  him,  hunter-wise, 
Too  high  for  overleaping,  save  by  lies? 
To  me  this  hour  was  dreamed  of  long  ago ; 
A  thing  of  ancient  hate.    *Twas  very  slow 
In  coming,  but  it  came.    And  here  I  stand 
Even  where  I  struck,  with  all  the  deed  I  planned 
Done!       'Twas     so     wrought — what     boots     it     to 

deny  ? — 
The  man  could  neither  guard  himself  nor  fly. 
An  endless  web,  as  by  some  fisher  strung, 
A  deadly  plenteousness  of  robe,  I  flung 
All    round    him,    and   struck   twice;    and    with   two 

cries 
His  limbs  turned  water  and  broke;  and  as  he  lies 
I  cast  my  third  stroke  in,  a  prayer  well-sped 
To  Zeiis  of  Hell,  who  guardeth  safe  his  dead! 
So  there  he  gasped  his  life  out  as  he  lay; 
And,  gasping,  the  blood  spouted  .   .   .  Like  dark  spray 
That  splashed.  It  came,  a  salt  and  deathly  dew ; 
Sweet,  sweet  as  God's  dear  rain-drops  ever  blew 
O'er  a  parched  field,  the  day  the  buds  are  born!  .  .  . 

Which  things  being  so,  ye  Councillors  high-born, 
Depart  in  joy,  if  joy  ye  will.    For  me, 
I  glory.    Oh,  if  such  a  thing  might  be 
As  o'er  the  dead  thank-offering  to  outpour, 
On  this  dead  it  were  just,  aye,  just  and  more, 
Who  filled  the  cup  of  the  House  with  treacheries 
Curse-fraught,  and  here  hath  drunk  it  to  the  lees! 


64  AESCHYLUS    w.  1399-1417. 

Leader. 
We  are  astonied  at  thy  speech.    To  fling, 
Wild  mouth!  such  vaunt  over  thy  murdered  King! 

Clytemnestra. 
Wouldst  fright  me,  like  a  witless  woman?    Lo, 
This    bosom    shakes    not.      And,    though    well    ye 

know, 
I  tell  you  .    .    .   Curse  me  as  ye  will,  or  bless, 
'Tis  all  one   .    .    .   This  is  Agamemnon ;  this, 
My  husband,  dead  by  my  right  hand,  a  blow 
Struck  by  a  righteous  craftsman.    Aye,  'tis  so. 

Chorus. 
Woman,  what  evil  tree, 

What  poison  grown  of  the  ground 
Or  draught  of  the  drifting  sea 

Way  to  thy  lips  hath  found, 
Making  thee  clothe  thy  heart 

In  rage,  yea,  in  curses  burning 
When  thine  own  people  pray  ? 
Thou  hast  hewn,  thou  hast  cast  away ; 
And  a  thing  cast  away  thou  art, 

A  thing  of  hate  and  a  spurning! 

Clytemnestra. 
Aye,  now,  for  me,  thou  hast  thy  words  of  fate ; 
Exile  from  Argos  and  the  people's  hate 
For  ever!    Against  him  no  word  was  cried, 
When,  recking  not,  as  'twere  a  beast  that  died, 
With  flocks  abounding  o'er  his  wide  domain. 
He  slew  his  child,  my  love,  my  flower  of  pain,  .   .  , 


w.  1418-1439.    AGAMEMNON  65 

Great  God,  as  magic  for  the  winds  of  Thrace! 

Why  was  not  he  man-hunted  from  his  place, 

To  purge  the  blood  that  stained  him?   .    .    .  When 

the  deed 
Is  mine,  oh,  then  thou  art  a  judge  indeed ! 
But  threat  thy  fill.    I  am  ready,  and  I  stand 
Content;  if  thy  hand  beateth  down  my  hand, 
Thou  rulest.     If  aught  else  be  God's  decree, 
Thy  lesson  shall  be  learned,  though  late  it  be. 

Chorus. 
Thy  thought,  it  is  very  proud ; 

Thy  breath  is  the  scorner's  breath; 
Is  not  the  madness  loud 

In  thy  heart,  being  drunk  with  death? 
Yea,  and  above  thy  brow 

A  star  of  the  wet  blood  burneth ! 
Oh,  doom  shall  have  yet  her  day, 
The  last  friend  cast  away, 
When  He  doth  answer  lie 

And  a  stab  for  a  stab  returneth! 

Clytemnestra. 
And  heark  what  Oath-gods  gather  to  my  side! 
By  my  dead  child's  Revenge,  now  satisfied. 
By  Mortal  Blindness,  by  all  Powers  of  Hell 
Which  Hate,  to  whom  in  sacrifice  he  fell. 
My  Hope  shall  walk  not  in  the  house  of  Fear, 
While  on  my  hearth  one  fire  yet  burneth  clear, 
One  lover,  one  Aigisthos,  as  of  old! 

What  should  I  fear,  when  fallen  here  I  hold 
This  foe,  this  scorner  of  his  wife,  this  toy 
And  fool  of  each  Chryseis  under  Troy; 


66  AESCHYLUS    w.  1440-1457. 

And  there  withal  his  soothsayer  and  slave, 
His  chanting  bed-fellow,  his  leman  brave, 
Who  rubbed  the  galleys'  benches  at  his  side. 
But,  oh,  they  had  their  guerdon  as  they  died! 
For  he  lies  thus,  and  she,  the  wild  swan's  wayj 
Hath  trod  her  last  long  weeping  roundelay, 
And  lies,  his  lover,  ravisht  o'er  the  main 
For  his  bed's  comfort  and  my  deep  disdain. 


Chorus. 
{Some  Elders.) 
Would  God  that  suddenly 
With  no  great  agony, 

No  long  sick-watch  to  keep, 
My  hour  would  come  to  me, 
•    My  hour,  and  presently 
Bring  the  eternal,  the 

Unawaking  sleep, 
Now  that  my  Shepherd,  he 
Whose  love  watched  over  me. 
Lies  in  the  deep! 

Another. 
For  woman's  sake  he  endured  and  battled  well. 
And  by  a  woman's  hand  he  fell. 

Others. 
What  hast  thou  done,  O  Helen  blind  of  brain, 
O  face  that  slew  the  souls  on  Ilion's  plain, 
One    face,    one    face,    and    many   a   thousand 
slain  ? 


w.  1458-1477.    AGAMEMNON  67 

The  hate  of  old  that  on  this  castle  lay, 
Builded  in  lust,  a  husband's  evil  day, 
Hath  bloomed  for  thee  a  perfect  flower  again 
And  unforgotten,  an  old  and  burning  stain 
Never  to  pass  away. 


Clytemnestra. 
Nay,  pray  not  for  the  hour  of  death,  being  tried 

Too  sore  beneath  these  blows 
Neither  on  Helen  turn  thy  wrath  aside. 
The  Slayer  of  Men,  the  face  which  hath  destroyed 
Its  thousand  Danaan  souls,  and  wrought  a  wide 

Wound  that  no  leech  can  close. 

Chorus. 
— Daemon,  whose  heel  is  set 

On  the  House  and  the  twofold  kin 
Of  the  high  Tantalidae, 
A  power,  heavy  as  fate, 

Thou  wieldest  through  woman's  sin, 
Piercing  the  heart  of  me! 

— Like  a  raven  swoln  with  hate 

He  hath  set  on  the  dead  his  claw, 
He  croaketh  a  song  to  sate 
His  fury,  and  calls  it  Law! 

Clytemnestra. 
Ah,  call  upon  Him!    Yea,  call — 

And  thy  thought  hath  found  its  path — 
The  Daemon  who  haunts  this  hall. 

The  thrice-engorged  Wrath; 


68  AESCHYLUS    w.  1478-1496. 

From  him  is  the  ache  of  the  flesh 
For  blood  born  and  increased; 
Ere  the  old  sore  hath  ceased 
It  oozeth  afresh. 


Chorus. 
— Indeed  He  is  very  great, 

And  heavy  his  anger,  He, 
The  Daemon  who  guides  the  fate 
Of  the  old  Tantalidae: 
Alas,  alas,  an  evil  tale  ye  tell 
Of  desolate  angers  and  insatiable! 

— Ah  me, 

And  yet  'tis  all  as  Zeus  hath  willed. 
Doer  of  all  and  Cause  of  all; 
By  His  Word  every  chance  doth  fall, 
No  end  without  Him  is  fulfilled; 
What  of  these  things 
But  Cometh  by  high  Heaven's  counsellings  ? 

[A    band    of    Mourners    has    gathered 
within   the  House. 

Mourners. 
Ah,  sorrow,  sorrow!    My  King,  my  King! 

How  shall  I  weep,  what  word  shall  I  say? 
Caught  in  the  web  of  this  spider  thing, 
In  foul  death  grasping  thy  life  away! 
Woe's  me,  woe's  me,  for  this  slavish  lying. 
The  doom  of  craft  and  the  lonely  dying, 

The    iron    two-edged    and    the    hands    that 
slay! 


w.  1497-1520.    AGAMEMNON  69 

Clytemnestra. 
And  criest  thou  still  this  deed  hath  been 
My  work?    Nay,  gaze,  and  have  no  thought 
That  this  is  Agamemnon's  Queen. 
'Tis  He,  'tis  He,  hath  round  him  wrought 
This  phantom  of  the  dead  man's  wife ; 
He,  the  old  Wrath,  the  Driver  of  Men  astray, 
Pursuer  of  Atreus  for  the  feast  defiled; 
To   assoil   an    ancient    debt   he   hath    paid    this 
life; 
A  warrior  and  a  crowned  King  this  day 
Atones  for  a  slain  child. 

Chorus. 
— That  thou  art  innocent  herein. 

What  tongue  dare  boast  ?    It  cannot  be, 
Yet  from  the  deeps  of  ancient  sin 

The  Avenger  may  have  wrought  with  thee. 

— On  the  red  Slayer  crasheth,  groping  wild 

For  blood,  more  blood,  to  build  his  peace  again, 
And  wash  like  water  the  old  frozen  stain 
Of  the  torn  child. 

Mourners. 
Ah,  sorrow,  sorrow!     My  King,  my  King! 

How  shall  I  weep,  what  word  shall  I  say? 
Caught  in  the  web  of  this  spider  thing, 

In  foul  death  gasping  thy  life  away. 
Woe's  me,  woe's  me,  for  this  slavish  lying. 
The  doom  of  craft  and  the  lonely  dying. 

The  iron  two-edged  and  the  hands  that  slay ! 


70  AESCHYLUS    w.  1521-1541. 

Clytemnestra, 
And  what  of  the  doom  of  craft  that  first 
He  planted,  making  the  House  accurst? 
What  of  the  blossom  from  this  root  riven, 
Iphigenia,  the  unforgiven? 
Even  as  the  wrong  was,  so  is  the  pain: 
He  shall  not  laugh  in  the  House  of  the  slain, 

When  the  count  is  scored ; 
He  hath  but  spoiled  and  paid  again 

The  due  of  the  sword. 

Chorus. 
I  am  lost ;  my  mind  dull-eyed 

Knows  not  nor  feels 
Whither  to  fly  nor  hide 

While  the  House  reels. 
The  noise  of  rain  that  falls 

On  the  roof  affrighteth  me, 
Washing  away  the  walls; 

Rain  that  falls  bloodily. 

Doth  ever  the  sound  abate? 
Lo,  the  next  Hour  of  Fate 
Whetting  her  vengeance  due 
On  new  whet-stones,  for  new 
Workings  of  hate. 

Mourners. 
Would  thou  hadst  covered  me,  Earth,  O  Earth, 

Or  e'er  I  had  looked  on  my  lord  thus  low, 
In  the  palled  marble  of  silvern  girth! 

What   hands   may   shroud    him,    what    tears   may 
flow? 


w.  a  542-1 564.    AGAMEMNON  71 

Not  thine,  O  Woman  who  dared  to  slay  him, 
Thou    durst    not    weep    to    him    now,    nor    pray 

him, 
Nor  pay  to  his  soul  the  deep  unworth 
Of  gift  or  prayer   to   forget  thy  blow. 


— Oh,  who  with  heart  sincere 
Shall  bring  praise  or  grief 
To  lay  on  the  sepulchre 
Of  the  great  chief? 

Clytemnestra. 

His  burial  is  not  thine  to  array. 
By  me  he  fell,  by  me  he  died, 
I  watch  him  to  the  grave,  not  cried 

By  mourners  of  his  housefolk;  nay, 

His  own  child  for  a  day  like  this 
Waits,  as  is  seemly,  and  shall  run 
By  the  white  waves  of  Acheron 

To  fold  him  in  her  arms  and  kiss! 

Chorus. 
Lo,  she  who  was  erst  reviled 

Revileth;  and  who  shall  say? 
Spoil  taken  from  them  that  spoiled, 

Life-blood. from  them  that  slay! 
Surely  while  God  ensueth 

His  laws,  while  Time  doth  run 
*Tis  written:  On  him  that  doeth 
It  shall  be  done. 


It  AESCHYLUS    w.  1565-1583. 

This  is  God's  law  and  grace, 
Who  then  shall  hunt  the  race 
Of  curses  from  out  this  hall? 
The  House  is  sealed  withal 
To  dreadfulness. 

Clytemnestra. 

Aye,  thou  hast  found  the  Law,  and  stept 
In  Truth's  way. — Yet  even  now  I  call 
The  Living  Wrath  which  haunts  this  hall 

To  truce  and  compact.    I  accept 

All  the  affliction  he  doth  heap 

Upon  me,  and  I  charge  him  go 

Far  off  with  his  self-murdering  woe 
To  strange  men's  houses.     I  will  keep 

Some  little  dower,  and  leave  behind 

All  else,  contented  utterly. 

I  have  swept  the  madness  from  the  sky 
Wherein  these  brethren  slew  their  kind. 

[As  she  ceases,  exhausted  and  with  the  fire  gone  out 
of  her,  AlGiSTHOS,  with  Attendants,  bursts 
triumphantly  in. 

AlGISTHOS. 

O  shining  day,  O  dawn  of  righteousness 
Fulfilled!     Now,  now  indeed  will  I  confess 
That  divine  watchers  o'er  man's  death  and  birth 
Look  down  on  all  the  anguish  of  the  earth. 
Now  that  I  see  him  lying,  as  I  love 
To  see  him,  in  this  net  the  Furies  wove. 
To  atone  the  old  craft  of  his  father's  hand. 
For  Atreus,  this  man's  father,  in  this  land 


w.  1584-1611.    AGAMEMNON  73 

Reigning,  and  by  Thyestes  in  his  throne 

Challenged — he  was  his  brother  and  mine  own 

Father — from  home  and  city  cast  him  out; 

And  he,  after  long  exile,  turned  about 

And  threw  him  suppliant  on  the  hearth,  and  won 

Promise  of  so  much  mercy,  that  his  own 

Life-blood  should  reek  not  in  his  father's  hall. 

Then  did  that  godless  brother,  Atreus,  call. 

To  greet  my  sire — More  eagerness,  O  God, 

Was  there  than  love ! — a  feast  of  brotherhood. 

And,  feigning  joyous  banquet,  laid  as  meat 

Before  him  his  dead  children.    The  white  feet 

And  finger-fringed  hands  apart  he  set, 

Veiled  from  all  seeing,  and  made  separate 

The  tables.    And  he  straightway,  knowing  naught, 

Took  of  those  bodies,  eating  that  which  wrought 

No  health  for  all  his  race.     And  when  he  knew 

The    unnatural    deed,     back    from    the    board    he 

threw, 
Spewing  that  murderous  gorge,  and  spurning  brake 
The  table,  to  make  strong  the  curse  he  spake: 
"  Thus  perish  all  of  Pleisthenes  begot!  " 

For  that  lies  this  man  here;  and  all  the  plot 
Is  mine,  most  righteously.    For  me,  the  third, 
When  butchering  my  two  brethren,  Atreus  spared 
And  cast  me  with  my  broken  sire  that  day, 
A  little  thing  in  swaddling  clothes,  away 
To  exile;  where  I  grew,  and  at  the  last 
Justice  hath  brought  me  home!     Yea  though  outcast 
In  a  far  land,  mine  arm  hath  reached  this  king; 
My  brain,  my  hate,  wrought  all  the  counselling; 
And  all  is  well.     I  have  seen  mine  enemy 
Dead  in  the  snare,  and  care  not  if  I  die! 


74  AESCHYLUS,    w.  1612-1632. 

Leader. 
Aigisthos,  to  insult  over  the  dead 
I  like  not.    All  the  counsel,  thou  hast  said, 
Was  thine  alone;  and  thine  the  will  that  spilled 
This  piteous  blood.    As  justice  is  fulfilled, 
Thou  shalt  not  'scape — so  my  heart  presageth — 
The  day  of  cursing  and  the  hurled  death. 

Aigisthos. 
How,  thou  poor  oarsman  of  the  nether  row, 
When  the  main  deck  is  master?    Sayst  thou  so?  .   .   . 
To  such  old  heads  the  lesson  may  prove  hard, 
I  fear  me,  when  Obedience  is  the  word. 
But  hunger,  and  bonds,  and  cold,  help  men  to  find 
Their  wits. — They  are  wondrous  healers  of  the  mind ! 
Hast  eyes  and  seest  not  this? — Against  a  spike 
Kick  not,  for  fear  it  pain  thee  if  thou  strike. 

Leader. 
{turning  from  him  to  Clytemnestra). 

Woman!    A  soldier  fresh  from  war!    To  keep 
Watch  o'er  his  house  and  shame  him  in  his  sleep  .  .  . 
To  plot  this  craft  against  a  lord  of  spears  .   .   . 

[Clytemnestra,  as  though  in  a  dream,  pays  no 
heed.    Aigisthos  interrupts. 

Aigisthos. 
These  be  the  words,  old  man,  that  lead  to  tears! 
Thou  hast  an  opposite  to  Orpheus'  tongue, 
Who  chained  all  things  with  his  enchanting  song. 
For  thy  mad  noise  will  put  the  chains  on  thee. 
Enough!    Once  mastered  thou  shalt  tamer  be. 


w.     1633-1650.    AGAMEMNON  75 

Leader. 
Thou  master?    Is  old  Argos  so  accurst? 
Thou  plotter  afar  off,  who  never  durst 
Raise   thine   own    hand    to    affront   and   strike   him 
down  ,   .   . 


AlGISTHOS. 

To  entice  him  was  the  wife's  work.    I  was  known 
By  all  men  here,  his  old  confessed  blood-foe. 
Howbeit,  with  his  possessions  I  will  know 
How  to  be  King.    And  who  obeys  not  me 
Shall  be  yoked  hard,  no  easy  trace-horse  he. 
Corn-flushed.     Hunger,  and  hunger's  prison  mate, 
The  clammy  murk,  shall  see  his  rage  abate. 


Leader. 
Thou  craven  soul!    Why  not  in  open  strife 
Slay  him?    Why  lay  the  blood-sin  on  his  wife, 
Staining  the  Gods  of  Argos,  making  ill 
The  soil  thereof  ?  .  .  .  But  young  Orestes  still 
Liveth.     Oh,  Fate  will  guide  him  home  again, 
Avenging,  conquering,  home  to  kill  these  twain! 


AlGISTHOS. 

'Fore  God,  if  'tis  your  pleasure  thus  to  speak  and  do, 

ye  soon  shall  hear! 
Ho  there,  my  trusty  pikes,  advance!     There  cometh 

business  for  the  spear. 

[A  body  of  Spearmen,  from  concealment  outsidef 
rush  in  and  dominate  the  stage. 


76  AESCHYLUS    w.  1651-1659. 

Leader. 
Ho  there,  ye  Men  of  Argos!     Up!     Stand  and  be 
ready,  sword  from  sheath! 

AlGISTHOS. 

By  Heaven,  I  also,  sword  in  hand,  am  ready,  and 
refuse  not  death! 

Leader. 
Come,  find  it!    We  accept  thy  word.    Thou  offerest 
what  we  hunger  for. 

[Some  of  the  Elders  draw  swords  with  the  Leader; 
others  have  collapsed  with  weakness.  Men 
from  Agamemnon's  retinue  have  gathered 
and  prepare  for  battle,  when,  before  they  can 
come  to  blows,  Clytemnestra  breaks  from 
her  exhausted  silence. 

Clytemnestra. 
Nay,    peace,    O   best-beloved!      Peace!      And   let   us 

work  no  evil  more. 
Surely  the  reaping  of  the  past  is  a  full  harvest,  and  not 

good. 
And   wounds   enough    are    everywhere. — Let   us   not 

stain  ourselves  with  blood. 
Ye    reverend    Elders,    go    your    ways,    to    his    own 

dwelling  every  one. 
Ere  things  be  wrought  for  which  men  suffer. — What 

we  did  must  needs  be  done. 
And  if  of  all  these  strifes  we  now  may  have  no  more, 

oh,  I  will  kneel 


w.  1660-1669.    AGAMEMNON  77 

And  praise  God,  bruised  though  we  be  beneath  the 

Daemon's  heavy  heel. 
This  is  the  word  a  woman  speaks,  to  hear  if  any  man 

will  deign. 

AlGISTHOS. 

And  who  are  these  to  burst  in  flower  of  folly  thus  of 

tongue  and  brain, 
And    utter    words    of    empty    sound    and    perilous, 

tempting  Fortune's  frown, 
And  leave  wise  counsel  all  forgot,  and  gird  at  him 

who  wears  the  crown? 

Leader. 
To  cringe  before  a  caitiff's  crown,  it  squareth  not 
with  Argive  ways. 

AlGISTHOS. 

{sheathing  his  sword  and  turning  from  them). 
Bah,   I  will  be  a  hand  of  wrath  to  fall  on  thee  in 
after  days. 

Leader. 
Not  so,  if  God  in  after  days  shall  guide  Orestes  home 
again ! 

AlGISTHOS, 

I  know  how  men  in  exile  feed  on  dreams  .    .    .   and 
know  such  food  is  vain. 

Leader. 
Go  forward  and  wax  fat!     Defile  the  right  for  this 
thy  little  hour! 


78  AESCHYLUS    w.  1670-1673. 

AlGISTHOS. 

I  spare  thee  now.    Know  well  for  all  this  folly  thou 
shalt  feel  my  power. 

Leader. 
Aye,  vaunt  thy  greatness,  as  a  bird  beside  his  mate 
doth  vaunt  and  swell. 

Clytemnestra. 
Vain    hounds    are    baying    round    thee;    oh,    forget 

them !    Thou  and  I  shall  dwell 
As  Kings  in  this  great  House.    We  two  at  last  will 

order   all   things  well. 

[The  Elders  and  the  remains  of  Agamemnon's 
retinue  retire  sullenly,  leaving  the  Spearmen 
in  possession.  Clytemnestra  and  Aigisthos 
turn  and  enter  the  Palace. 


NOTES  TO  THE  AGAMEMNON 


The    chief    characters    in    the    play    belong    to    one 
family,  as  is  shown  by  the  two  genealogies: — 


I. 


Atrei 


Agamemnon 
(=  Clytemnestra) 


Tantalus 

I 
Pelops 


Menelaus 
(=  Helen) 


Iphigenia  Electra  Orestes 


Thyestes 


Aigisthos 
(=  Clytemnestra) 


(Also,    a    sister   of   Agamemnon,    name   variously   given, 
married  Strophios,  and  was  the  noother  of  Pylades.) 


II. 


Tyndareus  =  Leda  =  Zeus 

I  I 


Clytemnestra 


Castor         Polydeuces  Helen 


P.  I,  1.  I.] — The  Watchman,  like  most  characters 
in  Greek  tragedy,  comes  from  the  Homeric  tradition, 
though  in  Homer  (Od.  iv.  524)  he  is  merely  a  servant 
of  Aigisthos. 

79 


8o  AESCHYLUS 

P.  2,  1.  28,  Women's  triumph  cry.] — This  cry  of 
the  women  recurs  several  times  in  the  play :  cf.  p.  26,  11. 
587  ffv  p.  55,  1.  1234.  It  is  conventionally  repre- 
sented by  "  ololu  " ;  as  the  cry  to  Apollo,  Paian  is 
"  I-e,"  1.  146,  and  Cassandra's  sob  is  "  ototoi "  or 
"otototoi,"  p.  47. 

Pp.  3  f.,  11.  40  ff.] — With  this  silent  scene  of  Cly- 
temnestra's,  compare  the  long  silence  of  Cassandra 
below,  and  the  silence  of  Prometheus  in  that  play 
until  his  torturers  have  left  him.  See  the  criticism 
of  Aeschylus  in  Aristophanes,  Frogs,  11.  911-920, 
pp.  68,  69  in  my  translation. 

P.  5,  1.  104,  Sign  of  the  War-Way.] — i.e.  an 
ominous  sign  seen  by  the  army  as  it  started  on  its 
journey.  In  Homer,  Iliad,  11.  305-329,  it  is  a  snake 
which  eats  the  nine  young  of  a  mother  bird  and  then 
the  mother,  and  is  turned  into  stone  afterwards. — 
All  through  this  chorus  the  language  of  the  prophet 
Calchas  is  intentionally  obscure  and  riddling — the  style 
of  prophesy. 

P.  7,  1.  146,  But  I-e,  i-e.] — (Pronounce  Ee-ay.) 
Calchas,  catching  sight  in  his  vision  of  the  further 
consequences  which  Artemis  will  exact  if  she  fulfils 
the  sign,  calls  on  Apollo  Paian,  the  Healer,  to  check 
her. 

P.  7,  1.  160,  Zeus,  whate'er  He  be.] — This  con- 
ception of  Zeus  is  expressed  also  in  Aeschylus'  Sup- 
pliant Women,  and  was  probably  developed  in  the 
Prometheus  Trilogy.  See  my  Rise  of  the  Greek  Epicj 
p.  291   (Ed.  2). 

It  is  connected  with  the  common  Greek  concep- 
tion of  the  Tritos  Soter — the  Saviour  Third.  First, 
He  who  sins;  next,  He  who  avenges;  third.  He  who 
saves.  In  vegetation  worship  it  is  the  Old  Year  who 
has  committed  Hubris,  the  sin  of  pride,  in  summer; 
the  Winter  who  slays  him ;  the  New  Year  which 
shall  save.  In  mythology  the  three  successive  Rulers 
of  Heaven  are  given  by  Hesiod  as  Ouranos,  Kronos, 
Zeus  (cf.  Prometheus,  965  if.),  but  we  cannot  tell  if 
Aeschylus  accepted  the  Hesiod ic  story.     Cf.  note  on 


NOTES  8i 

1.    246,    and    Clytemnestra's    blasphemy    at    1.    1387, 
p.   63. 

P.  9,  1.  192,  Winds  from  Strymon.] — From  the 
great  river  gorge  of  Thrace,  NNE;  cf.  below,  1.  1418. 

P.  9,  1.  201,  Artemis.] — Her  name  was  terrible, 
because  of  its  suggestion.  She  demanded  the  sacrifice 
of  Agamemnon's  daughter,  Iphigenia.  (See  Euripides' 
two  plays,  Iphigenia  in  Tauris  and  Iphigenia  in  Aulis.) 
In  other  poets  Agamemnon  has  generally  committed 
some  definite  sin  against  Artemis,  but  in  Aeschylus 
the  death  of  Iphigenia  seems  to  be  merely  one  of  the 
results  of  his  acceptance  of  the  Sign. 

P.  10,  1.  215,  Tis  a  Rite  of  old.]— Literally  "it 
is  Themis."  Human  sacrifice  had  had  a  place  in  the 
primitive  religion  of  Greece;  hence  Agamemnon  could 
not  reject  the  demand  of  the  soldiers  as  an  obvious 
crime.     See  Rise  of  Greek  Epic,  pp.  150-157. 

P.  II,  1.  246,  The  Third  Cup.] — Regularly  poured 
to  Zeus  Soter,  the  Saviour,  and  accompanied  by  a 
paean  or  cry  of  joy. 

P.  II,  1.  256,  This  Heart  of  Argos,  this  frail 
Tower:] — i.e.  themselves. 

P.  II,  1.  264,  Glad-voiced.] — Clytemnestra  is  in 
extreme  suspense,  as  the  return  of  Agamemnon  will 
mean  either  her  destruction  or  her  deliverance.  At 
such  a  moment  there  must  be  no  ill-omened  word, 
so  she  challenges  fate. 

P.  12,  1,  276,  A  word  within  that  hovereth  with- 
out wings.] — i.e.  a  presentiment.  "  Winged  words  " 
are  words  spoken,  which  fly  from  speaker  to  hearer. 
A  '  wingless '  word  is  unspoken.  The  phrase  occurs 
in  Homer. 

Pp.  13  ^.,  11.  281  ff.]— Beacon  Speech.  There 
is  no  need  to  inquire  curiously  into  the  practical  possi- 
bility of  this  chain  of  beacons.  Greek  tragedies  do 
not  care  to  be  exact  about  this  kind  of  detail.  There 
may  well  have  been  a  tradition  that  Agamemnon,  like 
the  Great  King  of  Persia,  used  a  chain  of  beacons 
across  the  Aegean. — Note  how  vividly  Clytemnestra's 
imagination    is    working    in    her    excitement.      She 


82  AESCHYLUS 

seems  to  see  before  her  every  leaping  light  in  the 
chain,  just  as  in  the  next  speech  she  imagines  the 
scene  in  Troy  almost  with  the  intensity  of  a 
vision. 

P.  14,  1.  314,  Victory  in  the  first  as  in  the  last.] — 
All  are  Victory  beacons;  the  spirit  of  Victory  infects 
them  all  equally.  Cf.  1.  854  below,  where  Aga- 
memnon prays  that  the  Victory  which  is  now  with 
him,  or  in  him,  may  abide. 

P.  15,  1.  348,  A  woman's  word.] — Her  hatred 
and  fear  of  Agamemnon,  making  her  feel  vividly 
the  horrors  of  the  sack  and  the  peril  overhanging 
the  conquerors,  have  carried  her  dangerously  far.  She 
checks  herself  and  apologizes  for  her  womanlike 
anxiety.    Cf.  1.  1661,  p.  77. 

P.  18,  11.  409  ff..  Seers  they  saw  visions.] — A  diffi- 
cult and  uncertain  passage.  I  think  the  seers  attached 
to  the  royal  household  (cf.  Libation-Bearers,  1.  37, 
where  they  are  summoned  to  read  a  dream)  were 
rather  like  what  we  call  clairvoyants.  Being  con- 
sulted, they  look  into  some  pool  of  liquid  or  the  like; 
there  they  see  gradually  emerging  the  palace,  the  in- 
jured King,  the  deserted  room,  and  at  last  a  wraith 
of  Helen  herself,  haunting  the  place. 

P.  21,  1.  487.] — This  break  in  the  action,  covering 
a  space  of  several  days,  was  first  pointed  out  by 
Dr.  Walter  Headlam.  Incidentally  it  removes  the 
gravest  of  the  difficulties  raised  by  Dr.  Verrall 
in  his  famous  essay  upon  the  plot  of  the  Aga- 
memnon. 

P.  21,  1,  495,  Dry  dust,  own  brother  to  the  mire 
of  war.] — i.e.  "  I  can  see  by  the  state  of  his  clothes, 
caked  with  dry  dust  which  was  once  the  mire  of 
battle,  that  he  comes  straight  from  the  war  and  can 
speak  with  knowledge."  The  Herald  is  probably 
(though  perhaps  not  quite  consistently)  conceived  as 
having  rushed  post-haste  with  his  news. 

Pp.  22  ff.,  Herald.] — The  Herald  bursts  in  over- 
come with  excitement  and  delight,  full  of  love  for  his 
home  and  everything  he  sees.     A  marked  contrast  to 


NOTES  83 

Agamemnon,  11.  810  ff.  Note  that  his  first  speech 
confirms  all  the  worst  fears  suggested  by  Clytemnestra. 
Agamemnon  has  committed  all  the  sins  she  prayed 
against,  and  more.  The  terrible  lines  527  ff.,  "  Till 
her  Gods'  Houses,  etc.^"  are  very  like  a  passage  in 
the  Persae,  811  ff.,  where  exactly  the  same  acts  by  the 
Persian  invaders  of  Greece  make  their  future  punish- 
ment inevitable. 

P.  22,  I.  509,  Pythian  Lord.] — Apollo  is  often  a 
sinister  figure  in  tragedy.  Cf.  Sophocles  Oedipus, 
11.  915  ff.,  pp.  52  f.,  and  the  similar  scene,  Electro, 
655  ff.  Here  it  is  a  shock  to  the  Herald  to  come 
suddenly  on  the  god  who  was  the  chief  enemy  of  the 
Greeks  at  Troy.  One  feels  Apollo  an  evil  pres- 
ence also   in   the  Cassandra  scene,   11.    107 1    ff.,   pp. 

47  ff. 

P.  23,  1.  530,  Happy  among  men.] — The  crown 
of  his  triumph!  Early  Greek  thought  was  always 
asking  the  question.  What  is  human  happiness?  To 
the  Herald  Agamemnon  has  achieved  happiness  if  any 
one  ever  did.  Cf.  the  well-known  story  of  Croesus 
asking  Solon  who  was  the  happiest  man  in  the  world 
(Herodotus,  I.  30-33). 

P.  24,  11.  551  ff.,  Herald's  second  speech.] — The 
connexion  of  thought  is :  "  After  all,  why  should  either 
of  us  wish  to  die?  All  has  ended  well."  This  vivid 
description  of  the  actualities  of  war  can  be  better 
appreciated  now  than  it  could  in  19 13. 

P.  25,  1.  577,  These  spoils.] — Spoils  purporting  to 
come  from  the  Trojan  War  were  extant  in  Greek 
temples  in  Aeschylus'  day  and  later. 

P.  26,  1.  595,  Our  women's  joy-cry.] — There  seems 
to  have  been  in  Argos  an  old  popular  festival,  cele- 
brating with  joy  or  mockery  the  supposed  death  of  a 
man  and  a  woman.  Homer  (Od.  iii.  309  f.)  derives 
it  from  a  rejoicing  by  Orestes  over  Aigisthos  and 
Clytemnestra;  cf.  below,  II.  13 16  ff.,  p.  59;  Aeschylus 
here  and  Sophocles  in  the  Electro,  from  a  celebration 
by  Clytemnestra  of  the  deaths  of  Agamemnon  and 
Cassandra.    Probably  it  was  really  some  ordinary  New 


84  AESCHYLUS 

Year  and  Old  Year  celebration  to  which  the  poets  give 
a  tragic  touch.  It  seems  to  have  had  a  woman's 
"  Ololugmos "  in  it,  perhaps  uttered  by  men.  See 
Kaibel's  note,  Soph.  Electro  277-281. 

P.  26,  1.  612,  Bronze  be  dyed  like  wool.] — Im- 
possible in  the  literal  sense,  but  there  is  after  all  a  way 
of  dying  a  sword  red! 

P.  27,  1.  617,  Menelaiis.] — This  digression  about 
Menelaiis  is  due,  as  similar  digressions  generally  are 
when  they  occur  in  Greek  plays,  to  the  poet  feeling 
bound  to  follow  the  tradition.  Homer  begins  his 
longest  account  of  the  slaying  of  Agamemnon  by 
asking  "Where  was  Menelaiis?"  (Od.  iii.  249). 
Agamemnon  could  be  safely  attacked  because  he  was 
alone.     Menelaiis  was  away,  wrecked  or  wind-bound. 

P.  28,  1.  642,  Two-fold  scourge.] — Ares  works  his 
will  when  spear  crosses  spear,  when  man  meets  man. 
Hence  "  two-fold." 

P.  29,  Chorus.  The  name  Helena.] — There 
was  a  controversy  in  Aeschylus'  day  whether  language, 
including  names,  was  a  matter  of  Convention  or  of 
Nature.  Was  it  mere  accident,  and  could  you  change 
the  name  of  anything  at  will?  Or  was  language  a 
thing  rooted  in  nature  and  fixed  by  God  from  of 
old?  Aeschylus  adopts  the  latter  view:  Why  was  this 
being  called  Helena?  If  one  had  understood  God's 
purpose  one  would  have  seen  it  was  because  she  really 
was  "  Helenas  " — Ship-destroyer.  (The  Herald's  story 
of  the  shipwreck  has  suggested  this  particular  idea.) 
Similarly,  if  a  hero  was  called  Aias,  and  came  to  great 
sorrow,  one  could  see  that  he  was  so  called  from 
*  Aiai,'  "Alas!" — The  antistrophe  seems  to  find  a 
meaning  in  the  name  Paris  or  Alexandres,  where  the 
etymology  is  not  so  clear. 

Pp-  33  f-] — Entrance  of  Agamemnon.  The  metre 
of  the  Chorus  indicates  marching;  so  that  apparently 
the  procession  takes  some  time  to  move  across  the 
orchestra  and  get  into  position.  Cassandra  would 
be  dressed,  as  a  prophetess,  in  a  robe  of  white  reaching 
to  the  feet,  covered  by  an  agrenon,  or  net  of  wool  with 


NOTES  85 

large  meshes;  she  would  have  a  staff  and  certain  fillets 
or  crowns.  The  Leader  welcomes  the  King:  he  ex- 
plains that,  though  he  was  against  the  war  ten  years 
ago,  and  has  not  changed  his  opinion,  he  is  a  faithful 
servant  of  the  King  .  .  .  and  that  not  all  are  equally 
so.  He  gave  a  similar  hint  to  the  Herald  above,  11. 
J46-550,  p.  24. 

P'  35>  Agamemnon.] — ^A  hard,  cold  speech,  full 
of  pride  in  the  earlier  part,  and  turning  to  ominous 
threats  at  the  end.  Those  who  have  dared  to  be  false 
shall  be  broken. — At  the  end  comes  a  note  of  fear, 
like  the  fear  in  Shakespeare's  Julius  Caesar,  He  is 
so  full  of  triumph  and  success;  he  must  be  very 
careful  not  to  provoke  a  fall. — Victory,  Nike,  was 
to  the  Greeks  a  very  vivid  and  infectious  thing.  It 
clung  to  you  or  it  deserted  you.  And  one  who  was 
really  charged  with  Victory,  like  Agamemnon,  was 
very  valuable  to  his  friends  and  people.  Hence  they 
made  statues  of  Victory  wingless — so  that  she  should 
not  fly  away.  See  Four  Stages  of  Greek  Religion,  p. 
138  note. 

P.  36,  Clytemnestra.] — A  wonderful  speech.  It 
seems  to  me  that  Aeschylus'  imagination  realized  all 
the  confused  passions  in  Clytemnestra's  mind,  but  that 
his  art  was  not  yet  sufficiently  developed  to  make 
them  all  clear  and  explicit.  She  is  in  suspense;  does 
Agamemnon  know  her  guilt  or  not?  At  least,  if  she 
is  to  die,  she  wants  to  say  something  to  justify  or 
excuse  herself  in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  A  touch 
of  hysteria  creeps  in;  why  could  he  not  have  been 
killed  in  all  these  years?  Why  must  he  rise,  like 
some  monster  from  the  grave,  unkillable?  Gradually 
she  recovers  her  calm,  explains  clearly  the  suspicious 
point  of  Orestes'  absence,  and  heaps  up  her  words 
and  gestures  of  welcome  to  an  almost  oriental  full- 
ness (which  Agamemnon  rebukes,  11.  918  ff.,  p. 
39).  Again,  at  the  end,  when  she  finds  that  for  the 
time  she  is  safe,  her  real  feelings  almost  break 
out. 

P.    38]. — What    is    the    motive    of    the    Crimson 


86  AESCHYLUS 

Tapestries?  I  think  the  tangling  robe  must  have 
been  in  the  tradition,  as  the  murder  in  the  bath 
certainly  was.  One  motive,  of  course,  is  obvious: 
Clytemnestra  is  tempting  Agamemnon  to  sin  or  "  go 
too  far."  He  tries  to  resist,  but  the  splendour  of  an 
oriental  homecoming  seduces  him  and  he  yields.  But 
is  that  enough  to  account  for  such  a  curious  trait  in 
the  story,  and  one  so  strongly  emphasized?  We  are 
told  afterwards  that  Clytemnestra  threw  over  her  vic- 
tim an  "  endless  web,"  long  and  rich  (p.  63),  to  pre- 
vent his  seeing  or  using  his  arms.  And  I  cannot  help 
suspecting  that  this  endless  web  was  the  same  as  the 
crimson  pall. 

If  one  tries  to  conjecture  the  origin  of  this  curious 
story,  it  is  perhaps  a  clue  to  realize  that  the  word 
droite  means  both  a  bath  and  a  sarcophagus,  or  rather 
that  the  thing  called  droite,  a  narrow  stone  or  marble 
vessel  about  seven  feet  long,  was  in  pre-classical 
and  post-classical  times  used  as  a  sarcophagus,  but  in 
classical  times  chiefly  or  solely  as  a  bath.  If  among 
the  prehistoric  graves  at  Mycenae  some  later  peasants 
discovered  a  royal  mummy  or  skeleton  in  a  sarco- 
phagus, wrapped  in  a  robe  of  royal  crimson,  and 
showing  signs  of  violent  death — such  as  Schliemann 
believed  that  he  discovered — would  they  not  say: 
"  We  found  the  body  of  a  King  murdered  in  a 
bath,  and  wrapped  round  and  round  in  a  great 
robe?" 

P«  39  f«] — Agamemnon  is  going  through  the  process 
of  temptation.  He  protests  rather  too  often  and 
yields. 

P-  39.  1.  931.  Tell  me  but  this.] — This  little  dia- 
logue is  very  characteristic  of  Aeschylus.  Euripides 
would  have  done  it  at  three  times  the  length  and  made 
all  the  points  clear.  In  Aeschylus  the  subtlety  is  there, 
but  it  is  not  easy  to  follow. 

P.  40,  1.  945,  These  bound  slaves.] — i.e.  his  shoes. 
The  metaphor  shows  the  trend  of  his  unconscious 
mind. 

P.  41,  1.  950,  This  princess.] — ^This  is  the  first  time 


NOTES  87 

that  the  attention  of  the  audience  is  drawn  to  Cas- 
sandra. She  too  is  one  of  Aeschylus'  silent  figures. 
I  imagine  her  pale,  staring  in  front  of  her,  almost  as 
if  in  a  trance,  until  terror  seizes  her  at  Clytemnestra's 
greeting  in  1.  1035,  P.  45- 

P.  41,  1.  964,  The  cry.] — i.e.  the  cry  of  the  possessed 
prophetess  which  rang  from  the  inner  sanctuary  at 
Delphi  and  was  intrepreted  by  the  priests. — The  last 
two  lines  of  the  speech  are  plain  in  their  meaning  but 
hard  to  translate.  Literally:  "when  the  full,  or  ful- 
filled, man  walketh  his  home. — O  Zeus  the  Fulfiller, 
fulfil  my  prayers." 

P.  42,  1.  976.] — The  victim  has  been  drawn  into 
the  house;  the  Chorus  sing  a  low  boding  song:  every 
audience  at  a  Greek  tragedy  would  expect  next  to  hear 
a  death  cry  from  within,  or  to  see  a  horrified  messenger 
rush  out.  Instead  of  which  the  door  opens  and  there 
is  Clytemnestra :  what  does  she  want?  "Come  thou 
also!  "  One  victim  is  not  enough. — In  the  next  scene 
we  must  understand  the  cause  of  Clytemnestra's  im- 
patience. If  she  stays  too  long  outside,  some  one 
will  warn  Agamemnon;  if  she  leaves  Cassandra,  she 
with  her  second  sight  will  warn  the  Chorus.  If 
Cassandra  could  only  be  got  inside  all  would  be 
safe! 

P.  44,  1.  1022,  "One  there  was  of  old."] — Askle- 
pios,  the  physician,  restored  Hippolytus  to  life,  and 
Zeus  blasted  him  for  so  oversetting  the  laws  of 
nature. 

P.  45,  1.  1040,  Alcmena's  son.] — Heracles  was 
made  a  slave  to  Omphale,  Queen  of  Lydia.  His 
grumbles  at  his  insufficient  food  were  a  theme  of 
comedy. 

P.  45,  1.  1049,  Belike  thou  canst  not  yet.] — 
Cf.  below,  II.  1066  ff.  The  Elder  speaks  in  sym- 
pathy. "  Very  likely  you  cannot  yet  bring  yourself 
to  submit." 

P.  46,  1.  106 1,  Thou  show  her.] — It  seems  odd 
to  think  that  this  passage  has  for  centuries  been 
translated  as  if  it  was  all  addressed   to  Cassandra: 


88  AESCHYLUS 

"  But  if  you  do  not  understand  what  I  say,  please 
indicate  the  same  with  your  barbarous  hand  1 " — 
What  makes  Cassandra  at  last  speak?  I  think  that 
the  Elder  probably  touches  her,  and  the  touch  as  it 
were  breaks  the  spell. 

P.  47,  1.  1072,  Cassandra.] — "  Otototoi "  really 
takes  the  place  of  a  stage  direction:  she  utters  a 
long  low  sob. — The  exclamation  which  I  have  trans- 
lated "  Dreams !  "  seems  to  occur  when  people  see 
ghosts  or  visions.  Alcestis,  261 ;  Prometheus,  567. 
Cf.  Phoenissae  1296. — "Mine  enemy!"  The  name 
"  Apollon  "  suggested  "  apollyon,"  Destroying  .  .  , 
the  form  which  is  actually  used  in  the  Book  of  Revela- 
tion (Rev.  ix.  11). 

Observe  how,  during  the  lyric  scene,  Cassandra's 
vision  grows  steadily  more  definite.  First  vague  horror 
of  the  House:  then  the  sobbing  of  children,  slain  long 
ago:  then,  a  new  deed  of  blood  coming;  a  woman  in 
it:  a  wife:  then,  with  a  great  effort,  an  attempt  to 
describe  the  actual  slaying  in  the  bath.  Lastly,  the 
sight  of  herself  among  the  slain.  (This  last  point  is 
greatly  developed  by  Euripedes,  Trojan  Women,  11. 
445  ff.,  pp.  33  f.) 

The  story  of  the  Children  of  Thyestes  is  given 
below,  11.  1590  ff.,  p.  73.  Procne  (or  Philomela)  was 
an  Attic  princess  who,  in  fury  against  her  Thracian 
husband,  Tereus,  killed  their  child  Itys,  or  Itylus, 
and  was  changed  into  a  nightingale,  to  weep  for  him 
for  ever. 

P.  52,  11.  1 178  ff.] — Dialogue.  During  the  lyrics 
Cassandra  has  been  "  possessed  "  or  "  entranced  ":  the 
turn  to  dialogue  marks  a  conscious  attempt  to  control 
herself  and  state  plainly  her  message  of  warning. 
In  order  to  prove  her  power,  she  first  tells  the 
Elders  of  deeds  done  in  the  past  which  are  known 
to  them  but  cannot  have  been  known  to  her.  When 
once  they  are  convinced  of  her  true  seercraft,  she 
will  be  able  to  warn  them  of  what  is  coming! — 
The  short  '  stichom^thia '  (line  for  line  dialogue), 
dealing    in    awed    whispers    with    things    which    can 


NOTES  89 

hardly  be  spoken,  leaves  the  story  of  Cassandra  still 
a  mystery.  Then  her  self-control  breaks  and  the 
power  of  the  God  sweeps  irresistibly  upon  her;  cf. 
below,  11.  1256  ff.,  where  it  comes  at  her  like  a  visible 
shape  of  fire,  a  thing  not  uncommon  with  modern 
clairvoyants. 

P.  56,  1.  1252,  Thou  art  indeed  fallen  far  astray.] — 
Because  they  had  said  *'  what  man." 

P.  56,  1.  1265,  These  wreathed  bands,  this  staff 
of    prophesy.] — Cf.     Trojan     Women,     11.     451     ff., 

p.  34- 

P.  60,  11.  1343  ff..  The  death  cry;  the  hesitation 
of  the  Elders.] — This  scene  is  often  condemned  or 
even  ridiculed;  I  think,  through  misunderstanding. 
We  knew  the  Old  Men  were  helpless,  like  "  dreams 
wandering  in  the  day."  It  •is  essential  to  the  story 
that  when  the  crisis  comes  they  shall  be  found  want- 
ing. But  they  are  neither  foolish  nor  cowardly; 
each  utterance  in  itself  is  natural  and  characteristic, 
but  counsels  are  divided.  One  would  like  to  know 
whether  Aeschylus  made  them  speak  together  con- 
fusedly, as  would  certainly  be  done  on  the  modern 
stage,  or  whether  the  stately  conventions  of  Greek 
tragedy  preferred  that  each  speaker  should  finish  his 
say.  In  any  case,  what  happens  is  that  after  a  mo- 
ment or  two  of  confused  counsel  the  Elders  determine 
to  break  into  the  Palace,  but  as  they  are  mounting  the 
steps  the  great  doors  are  flung  open  and  Clytemnestra 
confronts  them,  standing  over  the  Bead  bodies  of 
Agamemnon   and   Cassandra. 

The  illusion  intended  is  that  the  Elders  have 
entered  the  Palace  and  discovered  Clytemnestra.  But, 
as  the  mechanical  arrangements  of  the  Greek  stage 
were  not  equal  to  this  sudden  change  of  scene, 
and  since  also  it  would,  even  with  perfect  machinery, 
have  a  tiresome  interrupting  effect,  a  slight  confusion 
or  inconsistency  is  allowed.  We  are  supposed  to  be 
inside  the  house;  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  the 
supposition  is  soon  forgotten,  and  the  play  goes  on 
without  any  attention  to  the  particular  place  of  the 


90  AESCHYLUS 

action.  On  Clytemnestra's  speech  see  Introduction, 
p.  xiii. 

P,  63,  1.  1387,  A  prayer  well  sped  to  Zeus  of 
Hell.] — As  the  third  gift  or  libation  was  ritually  given 
to  Zeus  the  Saviour,  Clytemnestra  blasphemously  sug- 
gests that  her  third  and  unnecessary  blow  was  an 
acceptable  gift  to  a  sort  of  anti-Zeus,  a  Saviour  of 
Death. 

P.  65,  1.  1436,  Aigisthos.] — At  last  the  name  is 
mentioned  which  has  been  in  the  mind  of  every 
one! — Chryseis  was  a  prisoner  of  war,  daughter  of 
Chryses,  priest  of  Apollo.  Agamemnon  was  made  to 
surrender  her  to  her  father,  and  from  this  arose  his 
quarrel  with  Achilles,  which  is  the  subject  of  the 
Iliad. 

Pp.  67-72,  11.  1468-1573,  Daemon.] — The  Genius 
or  guardian  spirit  of  the  house  has  in  this  House  be- 
come a  Wrath,  an  *  Alastor '  or  '  Driver  Astray.'  See 
Introduction,  pp.  x  flF. 

P.  68,  1.  1 5 13,  Mourners.] — This  attribution  of 
the  different  speeches  or  songs  to  different  speakers 
is,  of  course,  conjectural.  Ancient  dramas  come  down 
to  us  with  no  stage  directions  and  very  imperfect 
indications  of  the  speakers. 

P.  72,  1.  1579,  Aigisthos.] — The  entry  of  Aigis- 
thos enlivens  the  scene  again  after  the  brooding  and 
bewildered  end  of  the  dialogue  between  Clytemnes- 
tra and  the  Elders.  At  the  same  time,  it  seems,  no 
doubt  by  deliberSte  intention,  to  reduce  it  to  common- 
place. Aigisthos'  self-defence  is  largely  justified,  but 
he  is  no  hero. 

P.  73,  1.  1602,  Pleisthenes.] — Apparently  one  of 
the  ancestors  of  Atreus,  but  it  is  not  clear  where  he 
comes  in  the  genealogy.  He  may  be  identical  with 
Pelops. 

P.  74,  1.  1617.  Oarsman  of  the  nether  row.]— 
On  an  ancient  galley,  bireme  or  trireme,  the  rowers 
of  the  lower  bank  of  oars  ranked  as  inferior  to  those 
who  used  the  long  oars  from  the  deck. 

P.   76,  1.    1654.] — Clytemnestra,  see  Introduction, 


NOTES  91 

p.  xiii.  She  longs  for  peace,  yet  after  all  "  Had  Zimri 
peace  who  slew  his  master?"  The  end  of  the  play 
leaves  us  waiting  for  the  return  of  Orestes.  In  the 
first  scene  of  the  Libation-Bearers,  he  is  discovered 
standing  by  night  at  his  father's  grave. 


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